


Old Took Tales

by amnesia_machine



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Combination Book!verse and Movie!verse, Dwalin/Ori - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, fem!Bilbo, minor ships, pre-Kili/Tauriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 82,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amnesia_machine/pseuds/amnesia_machine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerontius Took once told his granddaughter something very important. “A story does not always end in a happily ever after. Happy endings are not a requirement for fairy tales. Never,” he said, “never make the mistake of falling in love with the hero.”</p><p>Bilba Baggins' adventure was not quite what she expected. It wasn't like the stories her grandfather had told her, or the tales in her father's books. Her hero was not always the most valiant, his companions were not all white knights, and she certainly wasn't some damsel in distress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Over and Under Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Shire the story of Bilba Baggins and the Quest for Erebor would someday become one of the greatest Took Tales to ever be told.

Happy endings are not a requirement for fairy tales.

Old Took had told her that once when she was very young. The story of his great hero and the beast ended in tragedy. The white knight slew the beast, and the beast killed him in turn. The day was saved at a great cost. Bilba had cried on his lap, demanding a change.

What he told her then was wisdom she was too young yet to understand.

“A story does not always end in a happily ever after. Happy endings are not a requirement for fairy tales.”

Bilba had sniffled and buried her head into his chest.

“We root for the hero, we follow and trust them with our lives. In the end the hero will always save the day for us, but sometimes he cannot save himself. That is why we always support him, but we never fall in love. For heroes rescue princesses and queens. They slay dragons. But we, Bilba, my dear, we are his warriors. We are following him on his quest, from start to end. If the story is to be changed, it is you who must do the changing.”

 

Some hero her great leader was turning out to be. Bilba was sure they'd had at least one spat a day since they’d met. The rude git. Not that she hadn't started a number of those herself. But he started it all by insulting her in her own doorway. A grocer, honestly!

Bilba Baggins may have had her eccentricities, but she was a most respectable hobbit, thank you very much. She may have been an old spinster nearly out of her childbearing years, but it's not as if she wanted to marry or have any children. She had always had better things to do than worry about the hobbit men around town, or whether or not she'd have a child to take over her estate someday. She had more than a dozen cousins ready to fight for that.

She was her own woman and master of Bag End. Save her life alone, she was highly regarded. She was a picture of respectability.

Or, she had been. That was completely shot now, she feared.

She had been snotted on by a troll, made a fool of herself in front of Lord Elrond (oh, her mother would be both amused and mortified), and she smelled like the back end of a pony on her best days and somehow managed to look twice as bad.

She wanted to die.

Oh, if her father could see her now.

She took a deep breath and continued on into the mountains.

The Misty Mountains brought awe to Bilba's eyes. They were huge from a distance, but on top of them they were terrifying and fantastic.

Thorin glared back from the front of the line. She was lagging again. “Halfling! Keep up!”

Bilba grimaced at Thorin's forth snip at her that morning. He had been in a particularly bad mood. First he drags her out of bed by the shoulder, demanding she hurry up as they were leaving immediately, then he yelled at her every so often to stay close. She wasn't even lagging that far behind, and she was with Bofur most of the time at that. Infuriating dwarf!

But she was trying a new tactic of dealing with their leader. Normally she would have snapped right back. She would have told him to keep his eyes on the path, not on her, as he was the one to get lost twice on the way to her home, once leaving the Shire, and countless times in Rivendell. She even had to walk him back to the company once, and he grumbled the entire way about elvish labyrinths. Today she decided to just shut up and hope that maybe he would get tired of baiting her into fights.

“Is he always so angry?”

Bofur shrugged. “That's dealing with the elves, lass. He's not fond of them.”

“He doesn't seem fond of anything.”

He laughed. “Ah, lass, if only you knew. You've both gotten off on a bad foot this journey. He's not so bad once you get to know him.”

She nodded but hardly believed him. “If you say so.”

Bilba hung back again. True, Thorin could be less than angry sometimes. He had on occasion actually seemed nice. Or maybe she was just imagining it. After all she'd been taught to find the good in everyone. She could even force herself to think well of Lobelia on occasion. Rare occasion.

There were the nights she'd catch his stare only to have him scowl at her, but sometimes she'd get a quiet nod. Sometimes she'd wake in the middle of a chilly night as a blanket was thrown over her and she'd catch his boots retreating. She was sure it had more to do with keeping her from getting sick and slowing them down, than any form of caring.

Oh, Thorin was frustrating, and it just made her more determined to prove him wrong. She could be useful. She could help. She just cared, really, what he thought of her, and wasn't that completely silly. He was the only one so far who had not even tried to be friendly with her.

She wasn't sure what she'd done to earn his ire.

_You did elude that you would give him a black eye at your first meeting_ , her brain supplied. Yeah, that had been a stupid thing to do.

“What's your weapon of choice,” he asked in that haughty voice of his. “Ax or sword?”

“Well, I have blacked a few eyes in my day.”

_And you nearly got him and the company eaten by trolls._ But she had helped save them in the end... that had to count for something.

She sighed and trudged on, a fat rain drop hitting her on the nose.

“Halfling! Move up! I'm sick of you lagging behind!”

She ground her teeth. “Stop watching me and watch the path before you fall off!”

So much for her new tactic. She huffed and pushed herself up by Fili and Kili who were whistling some lighthearted tune.

Dwalin laughed behind Thorin and pushed his shoulder forward and spoke where only they could hear. “Aye, you stare at her enough at camp. Best to not get distracted and walk over the ledge.”

“Ridiculous,” he spat.

Dwalin smirked. “You think I'm the only one whose noticed?”

Thorin swung an elbow and caught him in the ribs. “It is my job as leader of this company to keep and eye on all its members. I can hardly help that the hobbit needs the most watching after. She has a penchant for falling into trouble.”

Dwalin snorted. “More than your nephews? It's worse than I thought.”

“You sound like an idiot.”

He shook his head. “Well, then that's two of us.”

 

In the last two hours the torrent of rain had threatened to sweep her over the edge of the mountain three times. Dori had tutted at her and told her she ought to get a pair of boots. Then there was the thunder. It had made her jump clear out of her skin twice. And she isn't proud of it, but she may have wet herself just a tiny bit, because, dear Mother, there were stone giants. In this great wide world there were _stone giants_!

Bilba wished for her arm chair and her books and, blast, she'd even take Lobelia over this. She never thought she'd die because of a giant hurtling boulders at her.

They rose up out of the mountains themselves.

Everything in her froze at the sight of one mountain falling towards her. She couldn't even process what was happening. She registered the deafening sounds of one mountain crashing into another, but she couldn't comprehend what she was hearing. The rain had washed her feet out from under her and she was left clawing the cliff face.

Her mind carefully went blank and she focused solely on the feeling of stone under her fingers, under her nails. The breaking and biting of her skin.

She would recall nothing of dangling over the edge, save for trying to grip the mountain side.

Bofur and Ori lunged for her but it was Thorin who grabbed her. It was Thorin who jumped over the ledge to grab her and drag her back up.

At the sight of his nephew's near death Thorin's body went cold. His blood was already ice when he heard Bofur's panic. “Where's Bilba!?”

She was slipping

She was falling.

He jumped.

When Bilba found her feet back on the mountain side she wanted to collapse, but Bofur held her upright. Dwalin smiled, “I thought we'd lost our burglar.”

“She is a fool and a danger to herself. She should not have come,” he snapped. Instead of anger her heart sunk. He could have let her fall, but he saved her just to berate her once more. She thought her heart could sink no lower but Thorin spoke again and it was like venom in her veins. “She has no place amongst us.”

After that she kept her eyes down and kept close to the rear, but not so far as to get another lashing. Soon enough they found a dry cave, and she thanked the Mother for small mercies.

She didn't speak during their meager dinner, nor when Oin pulled her aside and bandaged her dirty and bloodied fingers. She twisted her hands in her skirt and sat far from the company and watched the rain.

“Bofur, you take first watch.”

“Aye.”

Bilba sighed and shifted when Bofur came over and laid a hand on her arm. “You alright there?”

“I'm fine.”

“Don't pay any mind to what Thorin said,” he watched her fidget. “He didn't mean all that.” She just nodded and left to set up her bed roll for the night. Of course she'd nearly stumble into Thorin in the process. She went ridged and he stepped around her.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said as he stepped by.

He sighed. Aulë, why was she doing this? He very nearly wanted to say “You're welcome,” or something else to forget the fact that he jumped over the side of the cliff without thinking. But instead he looked down at her bandaged fingers. “Be more careful. You nearly got yourself killed with your clumsiness.”

She winced. Some Took part of her wanted say something back. Anything. But it was only a very small part. And she was a Baggins after all.

 

She laid on her side quietly rolling the words back and forth in her head.

Thorin was right, of course. She shouldn't be here. What place did she have? She was here but by Gandalf's wishes. A misplaced hobbit among dwarves and far from green grasses and rolling hills. Her heart was a stone in her chest when she stood up without a sound. Like a thief in the night. She would have laughed had she not been so close to crying.

For all they fought she wasn't sure why she cared so much about what Thorin thought of her. At least she thought she had some place here, if even as a hired burglar.

Perhaps she could find a place in Rivendell, at least for a while. Somewhere in the back of her mind she didn't even think she would find a place if she returned to the Shire. She would have a home, but not a place. Not anymore.

She'd been lying to herself ever since she started playing the role of Respectable Miss Baggins. She wasn't, and this whole journey was just an excuse to get away from it. And all it did was solidify that she was just as wild as she was when she was a girl. Covered in dirt and breaking the rules. She'd be looked down at for the rest of her life, and would only be saved from mocking by her money and her Took cousins.

She pulled her pack on as silently as she could. She'd been fooling herself all along, it seemed. She had no right to be on this adventure. She'd have been gone too, down the path, had Bofur not caught her and pleaded for her to stay.

“Where are you going?” He was up and on her in an instant.

“Back to Rivendell, I suppose.”

“But you can't leave, lass. You're one of us.”

She knew the tears in her throat could be heard as she spoke. “I'm not though, am I? You heard Thorin. I have no place here. All I've done is get into trouble or manage to offend people. And he nearly fell, trying to save me,” she threw a hand back towards the cave. “He's right to say I have no place here.”

“Shh,” he said, trying to get her to sit down and think it through. She couldn't just up and leave. They were friends now, weren't they? “You're homesick, and feeling a bit lonely. It's okay. I understand.”

She sucked in a breath. “I can't. I just can't. He's right. I don't know what I was thinking coming along.”

“Bilba...”

“You're all used to this, this being on the road. I keep thinking of home and I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.”

Bofur tried his best to smile for her. He did. “At least wait until morning when it's light and the rain's stopped.”

Thorin watched from across the cave. It was good she left. She deserved to be home among her own kind. Safe. He'd wanted to send her back into her door before they ever left the the front gate.

A woman should never be so endangered. He still intended to have words with the wizard. He had tried many times, only to be brushed off. Why would he ever risk her safety in this way? Bilba should be home and treasured, not damp and in peril. Not manhandled by trolls or run down by wargs. Everything in him wanted to take her back himself, or divide the group and have her escorted. His nephews would do well. And afterward they would continue to Ered Luin, safe with their mother...

Still, something in his chest clenched. What he said on the ledge had certainly not been his proudest moment. No, it was designed to hurt, meant to drive a spike into her.

He had watched her throughout their journey. It was his job as the leader, he told himself. And he saw her trying to make a place for herself. Trying to belong. It was easy to know where to strike to cause the most pain.

Oddly, he thinks he's grown fond of her. All the more reason to see her gone.

“I'll take you back,” Bofur offered.

“No, you need to stay. You have a family to watch out for... If I go now it'll keep everyone from arguing about it one way or the other. It's better this way.”

He was reaching out to hug her when the blue light caught his eye. “What's that?”

But then the floor hitched, and they found themselves falling into darkness.

 

In those tunnels Bilba thought of home. She could leave, she could try to make it out and go home. But her heart rebelled at the thought. That wasn't right. She couldn't just turn back. Not now. She couldn't leave her friends in a place like this. With goblins and who knew what else.

Bofur always had a smile for her and shared his stories. Bombur, quiet though he was, always made conversation as she helped him with the cooking. He was a jolly man, who, like his brother, quickly befriended her.

Ori liked to talk about history and books with her, and she often found him writing down bits of information in his notebooks, or sketching something or other. He was sweet as a lamb.

And the boys often flanked her as they road and laughed about things with her. Fili and Kili sang ridiculous songs and tried to either pull pranks on her, or involve her in pranks on others. They reminded her of her Took cousins. She'd unintentionally started to mother after the both of them, worrying over minor cuts and tears in their shirts.

They were her friends. Every one of them, even Thorin.

She sighed.

It wasn't just a sense of duty, she cared about them all. About their safety and happiness. They couldn't just turn back at the hard part and go home.

She pulled out her blade and in the fading blue light she caught the glimmer of something golden in the dark.

 

“We hates it forever!” It echoed behind her as Bilba sprinted from the cave and down the mountain side. She prayed that the wretched creature she had found wouldn't dare come into the light.

The world was bleeding gray as she stumbled on the leveling ground. She picked up the sounds of an argument and she leaned against a tree to catch her breath.

“I'll tell you what happened!” Thorin shouted. “Miss Baggins saw her chance and she took it. She has gone home, where she should have stayed, wizard! She has longed for nothing but her hearth and books since first she stepped foot out of her door. We will not be seeing her again.” And that was it. She had fought her way to the surface, outwitted an unnameable creature, and here she was, being berated when she could very well be dead. “What sort of fool are you, Gandalf?” She must have imagined the pain she was hearing in his words, but Thorin knew it was there even if he didn't know why. It hurt, because in all likelihood she was dead right now. Dead in some forgotten corner. And they could not return for her.

“But Nori saw her fall! We have to go back!” That was Kili's voice.

Fili grabbed him by the arm, ready to go back up to the mountain. “We'll go search.”

“Us too,” Bofur said, grabbing his brother and cousin by the shoulder.

Before anyone else could voice one way or another Thorin snapped, “No! We will have an army of goblins on us before nightfall. We have to move!”

“But Bilba,” Fili started. And, damn, she could hear the hurt in his voice.

“I'm fine,” she finally slipped off her ring and stepped from behind the tree. “I'm okay.” She watched a wave of relief wash over the company. It took all her strength then not to cry for the looks on their faces. Whether or not she belonged didn't matter then. She had people who would risk a goblin army to rescue someone who could have been dead, and by all means should have been.

“I've never been so happy to see someone in all my life,” Gandalf said, his old shoulders sagging and a smile across his face.

“How did you get out?”

“What happened?”

“What does it matter,” Gandalf said. “She's back.”

“It matters,” and Bilba stood stock still in Thorin's gaze. “Why did you come back?”

She held herself as strong as she could, which right now was surprisingly so. “I know what you must think of me. I'm small, and weak. I have more than once needed saving. And you're right that I miss my books and my garden. That's home for me. Before this my home was always my place. That's why I came back. You don't have one. A home. It was stolen, but I will help you get it back if I can. If I can get you home, then well, that's what I'll do. I'll take you home.”

She meant it with all her heart.

But there was no time then to speak when not goblins but orcs set on them. They were driven up into the trees with wargs tearing at their roots. Fifteen birds in five fir trees. The sheer force of the beasts had them toppling one by one until they hung out over a drop to their death.

A great white beast, for that is all Bilba could call him, said something rough in his mess of a language and she watched Thorin rise up and run to his own death. She heard Dwalin cry out when Thorin was thrown by the jaws of warg. She heard Balin, Fili and Kili scream. She heard them all somewhere in the back of her head as the blood pounded in her ears and she followed Thorin. She ran and let loose a battle cry that would have made Bullroarer Took proud. She felt the pop and the rush and the orc's black blood seeping through the front of her shirt.

She swung blindly at the white warg. All her mind could say was “Not him. You can not take him. This quest is nothing without him.” Still, it could very well of been shouted at the tops of her lungs for all the fear in her tiny frame. The fight was a rush, as others clawed their way from the tree and dove onto the orcs. It felt like only a moment had past between Thorin's fall and the white warg pushing her back. When had she fallen? She scrambled backwards and everything moved too quickly around her. There was an awful screeching and she was flying in the dark, screaming orcs and wargs left far behind her.

The world stood still to compensate, it seemed, when they were placed down miles away. Bilba stood back as the dwarves rushed to their leader's side. And she prayed to the Mother he was alright. That she'd come in time. An hour passed in the minute that the wizard leaned over Thorin and spoke in an ancient tongue.

She heard him croak something and Gandalf reply, “It's alright. Bilba is quite safe.”

Dwalin was hauling Thorin to his feet and she nearly rushed to him when he stumbled, but his glare froze her feet to the stone, her smile falling to a frown.

“You nearly got yourself killed! What were you thinking?” If Thorin heard the break in his own voice it did not stop him. If anyone heard, they did not judge. “Did I not say you would not survive in the wild? That you should go home? That you have no place here?”

Bilba didn't bite her lip, but she could not hold up her head and hear this. She could not keep up the courage Belladonna had given her, nor the strength Bungo had taught her. Instead she nearly stepped away.

The embrace was a shock to her system. Arms tight around her and her head forced to tilt up over Thorin's shoulder and into his neck. The smell of blood and sweat filled her. “I have never be so wrong in all my life.” It was softly spoken against her hair. He held her for what was probably too long to be respectable, but neither cared. He was alive. That was all Bilba cared about in the moment. Not his kind words, nor his warm embrace. He was alive, and she would damn well not let him go until she was sure he was breathing and real.

But, Thorin was equally worried that he was dreaming that she was safe and breathing. He lost consciousness, but not before he saw her standing over him, sword in hand, with Azog bearing down on her.

“I am sorry I ever doubted you,” he whispered.

He held her away to look her over. By what miracle she escaped unscathed he did not know, but he silently blessed the Maker.

“I would have doubted me too,” she said. He could only smile and shake his head for her nonsense. “I'm a coward. I'm not a hero.”

“Today you are,” he said, and nearly hugged her again, but just above her shoulder he saw it. She turned and followed his gaze.

“Is that?”

Even Bilba had to take a deep breath. “Our home,” Thorin said, wrapping an arm around her and looking down to see her face filled with wonder at the sight on the horizon.

Erebor.

“I promise you,” she whispered. “I promise I'll do everything I can to get you there.”


	2. Flowers in Her Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beorn's land is one of omens.

The descent from the Carrock was hellish. Her actions against the orcs were swimming in her head, and she could hardly focus as it were before the awful winds. She stumbled twice on the narrow steps only to be caught by the arm by Dori. “It's alright, Miss Bilba. We'll be on the ground soon enough and then you can rest.”

She nodded.

A rest sounded nice.

Thorin needed it more than anyone. She had tried to convince him to rest there on the top of the Carrock but no. He simply would not, the insufferable idiot. He was hurt!

Soon enough they finally reached the ground and crowded around the river. Oin forced Thorin to sit by the water side and washed the cuts on his face.

“Off with the shirt, lad. I need to see those ribs.”

Bilba hovered nearby watching. Thorin winced as he lifted his arms, and Bilba grimaced. She could already see the bruises. Oin frowned and pulled the armor and shirts the rest of the way over Thorin's head. Bilba thought she'd be sick. She must have gagged because they both turned to look at her. “Ah, lass you sit too. I need to look you over.”

“I'm fi-fine,” she managed. She truly was besides a small cut on her hand. She was just... shaken now that it had all set in.

Oin just nodded and pointed to the ground. She eased herself down, eyes still ghosting over the reds and blues of Thorin's body. She could see punctures as Oin washed away the blood. She drew up her knees. “I'm sorry,” she finally muttered. “I should have gotten there faster.”

“I could ask no more. You saved my life.” He looked at her with such soft eyes. She wasn't sure what to make of it, really. “Were you injured?”

“No.”

“You're pale,” he noted. “Are you sure you're fine?”

“Just a bit rattled.” She turned her hands over, looking at the cut she got when she dove on that orc and caught a jagged bit of armor. “I've never killed anything before.”

Thorin bit back a noise as Oin bound his ribs. The deaf older dwarf hadn't caught a word of their conversation. He sat back and turned to Bilba. “Your turn, girl. I know you must have gotten knocked around.”

She held out her hand. “Just a little cut.”

Oin gave it a quick look over. “Neither of you go anywhere. I'm going to go mix up something for you both. We don't need infections.”

Bilba took back her hand and cradled it in her lap.

“I'm sorry,” Thorin said.

She looked up as he was forcing himself to scoot closer. “It's fine. You're the one hurt.”

He nodded. “Still, you put yourself in danger for me. I'm not so proud that I don't realize I have been harsh to you. I had my reasons, as foolish as they may seem.”

“Hm?”

“Among my people there are very few woman. It would be unspeakable to allow one into such dangers as you have seen. I still believe you should have stayed home.”

“Well it's good I didn't. I can decide for myself whether or not I can handle some trouble,” she crossed her arms and puffed out her chest. That was a damned foolish reason, she had to agree. “I don't need protecting. And anyway,” she frowned. “Hobbit-women are just as commonplace as men,” Bilba said. “So don't let that worry you about me.”

“There is nothing commonplace about you, Bilba Baggins. And if you had not come I could have died.”

She deflated a bit and smiled. “I'm not deserving of such a compliment. I just ran in without thinking. I didn't... I couldn't see you hurt.”

“And still it was you who saved me from an enemy who has haunted me since long before you were even born.” He bowed his head to her. “The Line of Durin are forever at your service, Miss Baggins.”

“Thank you, Thorin. I remain at yours.”

 

Gandalf led them all to a house down the river. Bilba had complained that she wanted to take a bath at least, but Gandalf just smiled and promised the river would be close enough for that later. “The orcs may pick up our trail if we linger too long, Bilba. And if our host is generous enough you may be able to have a hot bath.”

That sounded lovely. And she didn't fancy any more orcs on this quest, thank you.

Fili and Kili flanked her as they walked, and Thorin stayed not far ahead, listening in as they spoke.

“We didn't know you had it in you, Bilba. An orc and a warg!”

“Yes, well, it had to be done.”

Fili beamed. “You stood up to Azog though! Thorin's told me stories about him since I was little to scare me. It used to give Kili nightmares.”

“Did not!”

“Mama,” his brother mocked. “I dreamed about the white monster again. I wet the bed. Weh.”

“Shut up! I was five years old.” Kili turned red and glowered at him.

Bilba laughed, and Thorin smiled.

“Well, I used to have nightmares about wolves that woke me up in tears all the way up until I came of age,” Bilba said trying to calm Kili down.

“Still, seeing you face down a nightmare like that,” Kili waved one of his arms around in front of himself, mimicking Bilba's sword. “That was amazing.”

“Just imagine if we'd had time to teach you how to use your sword. You could have stabbed him right in his fat head and killed him!”

Bilba snorted. “Yes, after I grew another four or five feet, and climbed on a step ladder. I would do quite well, certainly.”

Thorin huffed a laugh ahead of them. “You two can start training her tomorrow then. She needs it.”

 

The lands turned from grasses to flowers and Bilba felt the pangs of home. Great fields awash in every color. She paused, the urge to pick a few overcoming her. Thorin stalled by her as she smelled something blue before picking it and tucking it into her hair.

He gave her a questioning look and she smiled. “Cornflowers,” she said as if it explained everything. Thorin just shook his head with a small laugh and continued on.

Bilba just shrugged. She wondered if something had changed between them. He was certainly much kinder today and she was willing to make all the effort she could to keep it that way as long as she could.

She liked seeing him smile like that, even if it was underneath a pair of black eyes.

Gandalf stopped them a little way from the house and explained how they would proceed.

“We don't want to overwhelm him,” he said. “It shall be not too different to our arrival at Bilba's home.”

Bilba blinked a few times. “You honestly planned out how to first appear at my house... and you chose to send in Dwalin first?”

“What's wrong me with?”

“You're very, uhm” she gestured to all of him. “Intimidating.”

Gandalf gave him a look, and stroked his beard. “I had told Balin to go first. But, no matter. Bilba, Thorin and I will go first. And you will all follow my instructions this time.” Beorn, he explained, was a skin changer. “He is a great, tall man, and sometimes a massive black bear. And he is not overly fond of dwarves, but he will not turn us away most likely. You must let me do the talking. Be polite. And we must make it to his home before night falls, or else I fear we may find the bear and not the man.”

He introduced them slowly, two at a time, until he had Beorn so enthralled with their tale that he let them stay. “A very good story!” said he in his booming voice. “The best I've heard in a long while. If all beggars could tell such a good one, they might find me kinder. You may be making it all up, of course, but you deserve supper for the story all the same. Let's have something to eat!” He clapped his hands.

Bilba nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the dogs setting the table and sheep trotting in and serving dinner. Beorn only laughed.

“Aha, is little Bunny frightened?” And he scooped her up and sat her on his shoulder. She sat stock still, scared for a minute as Beorn laughed again. She tried to relax, and the company saw the notes of fear in her eyes and almost reached for their weapons.

Gandalf smiled though, “Please put Bilba down, Beorn. She is not fond of heights, small as she is.”

He chuckled and eased her back down to the table. “My apologies.”

Bofur grabbed her arm protectively as she sat back in her chair. “Quite alright, Master Beorn. Just- just a bit of a shock.”

The company eased up as Beorn, seeming oblivious to what had transpired, began to tell his own stories as they ate.

As the sun set though he grew more quiet until at last he stood from the table. “You are welcome to stay here and rest. I must leave. For your own sake, do not go outside until after the sun has risen. You would do so at great risk.”

The dwarves nodded and gave Beorn their thanks as he went outside, but turned to Gandalf once he was gone, the roars of a bear heard in the distance. “The bear,” he said. “He can be quite unreasonable.”

They listened and remained inside, not even daring to get near the door. They split up to wonder the house. Gandalf poked through a few doors looking for something, “Ah,” he turned to the remaining company. “The bath. I'll heat some water.”

Bilba helped Gandalf with the water, and let Oin insist that Thorin take the first bath and clean his injuries. Bilba sat around the table with Nori, Bofur, Balin, Dwalin and the boys. Each had their pipes in their hands.

“Are you ever going to tell us how you got out of those Goblin tunnels?” Bofur leaned across the table.

She gave a nervous laugh. “One day.”

“One day?” Kili moaned. “Come on. What better time than now?”

Dwalin huffed. “The lass'll tell us when she's ready.”

“Well then,” Fili said. “You'll have to tell us another story. Kili told me how you were telling one to him in Rivendell. It's hardly fair we don't all get to hear.” He sat back and crossed his arms waiting.

“Fine, fine,” Bilba said. “Oh what's a good story? How about one about Old Took.”

Gandalf nodded in agreement. “Many fine stories there, Bilba. Might I suggest the one about the magic diamond studs?”

 

It was late when the story had finished, and Thorin had come out of the bath and fallen asleep. Bilba forwent her own bath that night, the excitement of the last days catching up to her.

She woke up late the next next morning. Not even morning, to be honest. It was nearly noon when she pulled herself out of sleep. She yawned as she padded through the house. “Looks like the lazybones has finally gotten up,” Bofur laughed. “We were wondering if you'd ever wake. We tried to get you up three times.”

“Oh, really?” She climbed into a chair at the table and found the remnants of breakfast. “I didn't realize how tired I was.”

“No problem there,” Balin said. “We all slept in today. You're looking much better, if I do say.”

“Aye,” Dwalin spoke up. “The bags under your eyes are clearing.”

“Were they that bad?” she touched her face and pulled at her skin for a moment.

“A few days of rest and you'll look as good as you did the day you left that little hole of yours.”

“Hole? Please. It's called a smial. I hardly live in a hole.”

Dwalin just shrugged. “Looked like a hole in a hill to me.”

Bilba just shook her head and ate her cold toast, wiping the crumbs on her dirty pant legs. She vaguely realized what a mess she was. Her poor father would be turning in his grave. Wiping her dirty fingers on her clothes! From the corner of the room an argument suddenly erupted. It wouldn't be a normal day without one. Dori swatted his brother on the head. “Sit still!” Dori was busy fussing over Nori's complicated braids. “Oh, you've lost half of your hair pins. How am I supposed to put your stupid hair back up like this?”

“I don't know,” Nori bit. “You're the one who insisted on doing it. I was fine.”

“You look like beggar!”

“And you look like a priss.” It quickly rose into something which wound up involving several knifes and Dori lifting his brother high over his head and threatening to throw him out of the window. Dwalin jokingly swung one open, and Dori proceeded to actually chuck the younger dwarf out.

Dwalin and Bofur laughed until they hit the floor.

Bilba covered her mouth at the stream of curses that came back through the window. “Oh my.” He was going to stick his what _where_!?

She grabbed another slice of toast and slipped out of the room as Nori came stomping back in, twigs and grass in his hair.

She dodged Bifur and Gloin as they came back laden under a small mountain of clean and dried clothes, grumbling about having gotten delegated to laundry while everyone else was relaxing.

She saw Ori off in the distance sketching the scenery. Thorin was smoking on a bench, blowing smoke rings out over the gardens. Bilba nearly turned back inside to find her own pipe when Fili and Kili ambushed her with sticks.

“Finally!”

“We thought you'd sleep all day!”

“Here,” Fili pushed a large stick into her hands. “Time to learn how to swing a sword.”

She looked at it. “You're not serious?”

“Deadly,” Kili said and poked her in the back.

She held it up and swung it around for a moment before sighing. “Oh, fine. I guess it will come in handy. But I doubt it'll actually do me any good.”

 

Before Bilba knew it half of the company were sitting in the nearby shade and watching her continually have her 'sword' knocked across the grass. “Come on, Bilba. You've got to move your feet. You're little and fast. You're made for dodging!”

Thorin watched her get frustrated and angry with a half amused grin. And when had that changed, he wondered for a moment. A week ago he'd have watched her and been frustrated at her sheer lack of skill. But now he saw her making that effort and, well, he approved.

Nori laughed before he jumped up and rushed over to her and whispered something in her ear.

Dwalin laughed when Bilba nodded and ducked to the left of Fili's thrust and ran behind him before kicking the back of his knee and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Nori cheered, “That's it! You've gotta be sneaky.”

Fili rolled over and looked up at her, panting with her hands on her knees. “That's cheating.”

“You told me 'at any means necessary.' I think that counts.”

“Oh,” he smirked. “Is that how it's going to be now?” He sat up and waved to his brother.

Kili was on her before she could even stand back up straight and knocked her stick clear across the field. She huffed. “I should make you get that,” she crossed her arms, but stalked away to retrieve it.

“We've got to work on footwork,” Fili said. “You've got to actually move so Kili can't hit you see easily. Even Ori could hit you standing still as you do.”

“Hey!” he protested.

Thorin eased off of the bench and walked over as Kili knocked Bilba's stick away again. “Kili,” he held out his hand. “Let me test our burglar.”

“You're still injured,” Bilba said picking up her stick.

“Aye, but I'm well enough for this. I'll make an easier target. I can't move too quickly with my ribs bound.”

“I don't want to hit you! You're hurt!”

He smiled and pointed the stick at her. “You're going to have to actually hit me first.”

She reddened and stood across from him.

“Let's practice a different way. You hobbits know how to dance, correct?”

“Of course we do.”

He nodded. “Alright, then I'll lead. Just mirror what I do until you get used to moving around your opponent. This is how we taught my sister when she was young,” he said as he started to pace around. Bilba hesitantly copied him. “She was always slow to move, too busy thinking about what to do and not acting. She's very good at thinking ahead. She's bested me many times.” He lunged and Bilba shot back. “Good.” He started moving around her again. “A moving target is harder to hit. But a predictable one is just as easy to hit as a still one.” He swung at her again and she ducked, holding her sword up to block it. It flew out of her hands.

“This is just as bad as Kili rushing at me over and over again,” she picked up her stick.

“Hold on to it tighter. When I came at you, you loosened your grip expecting it to fly out of your hands.”

Their dancing game went on for nearly twenty minutes before Bilba felt comfortable enough moving to actually change up the pattern and try to hit Thorin.

She failed miserably over and over again, but eventually managed to keep the stick in her hands when Thorin clashed with her.

He gave her a short smile. “Enough for today. You can keep going with my nephews, if you'd like.”

She pushed sweaty hair out of her eyes. “Alright.” She dropped her stick and the grass and fanned herself with the collar of her sticky shirt. “Thanks,” she added looking up. The dwarf only nodded and found his place back on the bench in the shade.

 

Their story started as much by chance as it did by fate.

There were signs and portents, of course, as Oin would attest. Everything from birds and stars to the flowers picked and placed in Bilba's hair.

Berrirose and rainflowers, as it were.

It was as much Oin's job to understand things like the language of flowers as it was for him to know which flowers made what medicines. Gloin swore by his brother's predictions. It was an art that came from their mother's family, an art that Gloin had no skill for, but a great respect.

And Oin had predicted, or at least noticed, some very interesting things after their decent from the Carrock.

Like the prince's demeanor change towards their burglar. Though, it was true, a blind man could see it. There were other things. Smaller things. Unconscious things. Sitting closer to Bilba or the way he fell into step with her. There were things he had no control over. Like the four blue birds on top of Beorn's house, or the way the wisteria creeping up the side of the door caught in the breeze as Thorin and Bilba bumped into each other under the frame.

But then there were the flowers.

Bilba found herself sitting in the grass with a basket of flowers that afternoon, hands busy weaving a crown.

“What are you making?” Ori leaned down into her light.

“Oh, just,” she held it up, “it'll be a crown when it's done.”

He dropped down in the grass across from her, his sketchbook on his lap. “What's it for?”

“Just wearing. I was bored. There's nothing really special about them,” she said twisting the ends together and tucking a few more flowers in for good measure. She reached out and sat it on the dwarf's head. “You look ready for a mid-summer's eve party.”

“What's this about a party?” Kili laughed as he came over.

“Don't you laugh. Come here!” She pointed beside her and grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him down. Bilba busied herself tucking small yellow flowers in his hair. “You'd fit right in with a load of hobbits now.”

She gave him a pat on the shoulder and he turned around as she started picking the thorns from a rose and pricked herself. “Oh, stickle bats!” She stuck her thumb in her mouth as the pair laughed at her.

“Do flowers have meanings to hobbits?”

“Some do, naturally. I'm not very knowledgeable. I know the basics, really, but I'd have to ask my gardener for anything beyond that. Holman is quite brilliant. Best gardener in all the Shire. Little Hamfast is quite promising though. He's still young. He only became an apprentice less than a year ago and he's already very good.” She kept her hands busy with another crown and babbled on. “I always figured he'd become a roper like his father.” No one noticed the small tremor in her voice. “Good lads, all of them.” She smiled and put down her crown and instead lifted up a hand to touch the flowers on Ori's head. “I chose these more for their colors than their meanings. The primrose is for eternal love, the yellow poppies are for wealth. Other colors mean other things. But the bellflowers, these purple ones, mean loss.”

“Some dwarves know the language of flowers. I don't know if it's the same. I don't know it at all,” Ori said. “Oin should, don't you think?” he looked to Kili.

He quirked his head to the side. “Oh, I guess so. All his fortune-telling and stuff. I don't believe any of it,” he as stretched. “Do you think we'll have dinner soon?”

“I hope so,” Bilba said. “Oh, I meant to take a bath before. I should head back, I've spent too long out here.”

“We'll walk you back.”

She gathered up her basket of extra flowers. She could at least leave them in a vase for Beorn.

 

Bilba was ringing out her curls when she heard the voices raising in the dining hall. “Oh they'd better save me some,” she muttered to herself and threw on her clothes, hair still wet on her back.

After dinner, her hair still damp, she pushed it out of her eyes for the fifth time. She searched her bag for her scissors, but they had gone missing somewhere between Bag End and now. She sighed. She needed to trim her hair.

Perhaps one of the dwarves would have scissors... Maybe they'd even help her. She was loath to admit that she had butchered her hair far too many times in her life. But who would be the most reasonable dwarf to ask? Dori seemed a good candidate. She couldn't have been more wrong. He balked.

“Cut your hair!? Why in the world would you ever want us to do that?”

Which caught the attention of the rest of the dwarves, and she was bombarded with cries of why, and utter refusal.

“Why not! Look, it's gotten so long it's bothering my eyes. It is a perfectly reasonable thing to do, and if I didn't fear messing it up I'd do it myself!”

Thorin frowned at her. “It is a dwarven rule. No one will help you with this task, burglar.”

She sighed and her shoulders sagged. And there was the anger back in his voice. It had been a good two days anyhow.

“I'm not a dwarf, I'm a hobbit. I get my hair trimmed every few months. Most hobbits do.” She dropped her arms, exasperated. “Do any of you at least have scissors I can borrow? Beorn's are the size of my garden shears!”

Another cry of outrage rose up.

“We can braid it out of the way,” someone suggested.

“I can hardly be bothered to braid my hair that often.”

“How about until it grow long enough to stay out of your eyes? Then it can just be tucked back. You wouldn't have to cut it,” Dori suggested with a hopeful smile.

She rolled her eyes.

“Please, Bilba?” Kili begged.

She deflated. “Oh, fine. But I am hardly any good at braiding. My cousins always made fun of how bad I was.”

“Don't let Kili near your head,” Fili said. “He's terrible.”

That even brought a laugh out of Thorin.

Kili pulled a face. “Well Uncle can do it. He's very good.”

Bilba didn't have to look over to know Thorin was probably frowning and shaking his head, but she looked when he spoke. “Very well then.”

“Oh!” Kili said. “This is the perfect time to tell us how you got away from the goblins!”

That's how Bilba ended up sitting cross-legged on the floor, between Thorin's knees, his fingers in her curls. She sat at the head of a circle of dwarves telling the tale of Gollum.

 

Thorin settled behind her with her brush before the company gathered. “I was under the impression braiding was important to dwarves.”

“It is. It is a way of socializing, among other things. Friends will often braid for each other.”

“Ah. Hobbits are the same then.”

“A small way,” he said, “to make up for my poor attitude on the first leg of our journey.”

“Oh, that's...”

“I would also like to start over on a better foot. I would be honored to consider you a friend,” he admitted.

“I would lov- _like_ that very much.”

Thorin nodded.

Some specific braids could mean significant things. Most, of course, were purely aesthetic. But there were courting braids, and marriage. Braids to say you were sworn to your craft, braids that were worn by only certain families. Thorin didn't feel it important to say this though.

Kili bounded in with Bilba's basket that he put beside them. “You ought to put flowers in, Uncle. Hobbits wear flowers in their braids.”

“Not always,” Bilba said. “But... I wouldn't mind,” she added. She didn't think it important to say that flowers in your hair could have special meanings, even more than those in bouquets. Generally they were just to look pretty... but the language of flowers spoke volumes.

Thorin hummed in response.

Once they'd all gathered Bilba started. “Well, when we all fell I was able to duck away from the goblins, and I tried to follow after you all but I met another goblin on the path. He jumped on my back and in the struggle we both went over the ledge. Down and down we tumbled, separating. We landed in a dank cave, with a lake in the center. And we weren't alone,” she frowned as Thorin caught a knot in her hair. “There was a wretched creature down there, no bigger than myself. It was talking to itself as it drug the unconscious goblin away and bashed it's head in with a rock!” She punched her palm to demonstrate. “I tried to find a way out in the dark and on the ground I caught sight of something small and shiny. A little golden ring. I tucked it into my pocket without thinking. As I wandered the cave looking for a way out it saw me.

“It snuck around to me and nearly caught me. It spoke to me, saying how he wanted to eat me!” She chomped her teeth, and laughed. “He never mentioned if he had a name. In my mind I've started calling him Gollum. That's the awful noise he made. _Gollum, gollum_!” she choked. “I thought he'd bash in my head like the goblin, but he was confused. 'Never heard of a hobbit before,' he said. 'Is it tasty?' And I held onto my little sword asking the way out.”

She waved her hand in front of herself, pretending to hold out her sword. She was careful not to move her head too much.

Thorin had started to pull her hair out of her eyes and into a pair of braids around the sides of her head.

“'We know,' it said. 'We know the way out.' It was as if he were two people! He got angry and told himself to shut up. Indeed, he passed back and forth between moods like two of him lived in his head. He challenged me to a game. If I won he'd show me the way out, but if he won he'd eat me whole. So we played riddles in the dark for hours. It came down to one final riddle:

 

_This thing all things devours:_

_Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;_

_Gnaws iron, bites steel;_

_Grinds hard stones to meal;_

_Slays king, ruins town,_

_And beats high mountain down._

 

“Well, go on,” she said. “Take a guess.”

They pondered it a while and spat out many answers. The names of several giants and ogres from old tales. All the while Thorin slowly combed out her hair and separated it into several sections down her back, but even his hands paused as he thought about the riddle.

“Oh, what is it Bilba, come on?”

“Oh, none of you are even close! Come on now. Try a little harder,” she laughed. “My life was at stake with these games.”

Behind her Thorin snorted as his mind finally found the answer. “It's time,” he said.

She smiled, but couldn't turn to see him or else ruin her hair. “Yes. That's exactly right. But, you see, I didn't know the answer. I was so scared I could hardly speak as he mocked me in the darkness. I meant to shout out to give me more time, but all that would come out was 'Time! Time!'” She clapped her hands down on her thighs. “Oh, he was angry with me then. So, it was my turn, but I was so scared, and I was fumbling in my pockets, I couldn't keep my thoughts in my head. 'What have I got in my pocket?' I asked to myself, forgetting about the ring I had picked up. But Gollum mistook it for my riddle. He demanded three guesses and got them all wrong. I had won.”

“But surely he would not keep his word,” Thorin said. “How did you escape him?”

“Oh, he was enraged and I didn't believe him from the start. But he said first he wanted to show me his birthday present. I thought he meant to come back with something to kill me, but he broke out crying. Lost it was. His present. His precious, he called it. He went mad, saying I had stolen it. I don't even know what it was. I fled and ducked through tunnels and behind rocks. I didn't know where I would end up, but he was right behind me.

“I tripped in my escape and a most curious thing happen, the ring I had kept in my pocket slipped onto my finger and he ran past me. Invisible, I was. 'Sneaky hobbit,' he said. 'If it knows the way in it must know the out.' So he unwittingly led me through the tunnels to the exit, thinking to catch up with me. I ran past when I saw the light and escaped, hoping he would not dare leave the darkness.”

“Invisible!”

“Yes, a magic ring.”

“A perfect tool for a burglar," Nori said. “Wish I had me one of those.”

Thorin made a noise behind her. “Magic rings are often not to be trifled with. Many have dark enchantments over them.”

“I haven't noticed anything like that. But I've only used it the one time.”

Thorin nodded.

Honestly he was much to focused on Bilba's hair to worry about the ring. Curls, he decided, were the things with dark enchantments. Hairs kept poking free of the braid, and they looked strange. He'd done and redone them twice now and was on his third attempt.

Dwalin laughed beside them. “Having trouble there?”

“Be quiet,” he said with a low growl

“Oh,” Bilba laughed. “Are the curls making it difficult? The hair is out of my eyes. The rest can be loose.”

Thorin just growled again.

Dwalin laughed. “It's a matter of pride at this point.”

Thorin had tried for sets of more complex braids but in the end settled on one thick one down her back. He picked up the basket and sifted through the flowers.

“Flowers have all kinds of meanings to hobbits,” Kili said.

Oin looked up at that. “Do they now?”

“They don't always. Just for certain occasions. Hobbits would be in all kinds of messes if every flower meant something all the time. We just like them for their colors.”

Thorin pulled out a number of tiny white rainflowers, tucking them down the braid. He looked once more and picked a larger pink flower and tucked it right at the top. Berrirose.

That was all very interesting to Oin.

“That looks great, Uncle,” Kili said, leaning around.

“Well turn around and show us,” Gloin said.

She smiled and got up to turn for them. There were nods of approval all around.

Oin nodded to himself, and got lost in his thoughts.

There were others in her basket that would have looked nicer in his opinion. There were poppies and buttercups. Bellflowers and gardenias and violets.

In a basket of friendship and peace, loss and rejection, luck and courage, he chose for her promises and atonement.

And weren't they just strangely perfect, Oin thought. The woman who promised to take them home, and the man who was trying to make up for his undeserved harshness towards her.

And there were other meanings in those flowers. Perhaps they would follow.


	3. Fell Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilba is visited by an old nightmare with a new face.

During their first days in the forest they tried lighting fires at night, but all around hundreds of eyes seemed to glow. Watching. Waiting.

It left Bilba utterly depressed. She was quiet for nearly a week. No one could coax a smile out of her. Not the boys, nor Bofur with his ever present optimism. Even Thorin had tried, and failed miserably. He sat down beside her after their dinner one night and offered to redo her braids. As he worked he tried to tell her of the splendors of Erebor, but she did not care about the gems and gold. He tried to tell her of the magnificence of the gardens that once lay before it, but his descriptions fell short. He even told her about the time he walked in on his nephews dressed in their mother's clothes, still very young children, and declaring themselves the princesses of Ered Luin. They had smeared Dis' makeup over their faces and ended up tripping in her skirts as they paraded themselves in front of visiting dignitaries. It had almost worked, he thought. She breathed a small laugh, but her body sagged again under the weight of the darkness.

One day it grew so dark under the trees that Bilba couldn't keep her feet.

“Watch where you're walking,” Gloin said as Bilba stumbled for the third time.

“Easier said than done.”

The next time she tripped she fell on her face. She hardly had the will power to sit up. She was completely defeated.

“Are you okay?” Ori asked.

“No. No, I am not. I don't know where I am, or what is in front of me. I cannot see. I cannot see a single thing!” She shuddered and buried her face in her hands and hid the few tears that dared escape in her hopelessness.

“Oh, oh,” Ori looked around in a panic, and pulled her to her feet. “You can't see anything at all?”

“It is all black. I'm lucky enough to catch the outline of whoever has been in front of me to make sure I'm still going the right direction. I can't understand how any of you are walking around in this.”

Fili stepped up and hooked an arm in her's and motioned for Kili to do the same. “Just walk with us until it gets lighter.”

It took another two days for that to happen. The trees thinned out as they came upon a river. Oh, and what an unfortunate day that turned into.

 

Bombur made it across the the river with all the grace of a drunk goose. They dragged him out of the water and he had not woken up since. As if carrying his weight wasn't enough, he snored and talked in his sleep.

Bofur's once seemingly endless good moods came to an abrupt halt. He complained endlessly to his deaf brother. “When you wake up, that's it. No more extra food. I'm sending you to run laps up and down the path, you great, fat klutz.”

They took turns hauling him down the path and Bilba took on a load of extra packs that slowly dwindled with the days as their rations ran low, and so did their hope.

It was hardly evening when Thorin called for a stop. “We'll make camp here for now.”

Bombur was dropped not so gently on the ground.

Bofur kicked him softly in the thigh, too tired at kick him any harder. “What's our poor mother going to think about this, eh?” Then he sat down by him with a heavy sigh and pulled a few leaves out of his beard. “You'd better wake up.”

Bifur grunted something, and Bofur shook his head. Bifur shrugged before giving Bombur a thump on the forehead and sitting down.

“How much further is it,” Dwalin complained for the thousandth time, dropping onto a log.

Balin sighed. “There is no telling here.”

“There's no end to this accursed forest.”

“We're lost,” Bilba said and sagged against a tree.

Thorin shot her a glare. “We are not lost. We just have to keep heading east.”

“You're always getting lost,” Bilba frowned. She didn't even mean it maliciously. She was just so tired of these woods. Thorin crossed his arms and made an angry noise before dropping down next to Dwalin.

She stared up into the boughs. “Which way even is east?” She could just catch glimpses of light through the leaves. She could... “I'll be back,” she said and dropped her pack on the ground and started climbing.

“What are you doing?” Thorin said and looked up as she heaved herself up onto a branch.

“I'm seeing how close we are.”

“Get down from there, lass,” Dwalin scolded. “You're going to hurt yourself.”

“I am an excellent climber,” she said. “I've climbed tons of trees and I've only ever fallen once,” she said more to herself than anything. “If it hadn't been for my cousin, Herugar, I'd have never fallen either. Oh,” she let out a bitter laugh, still talking to herself. “Aunt Belba switched him for that. Broke my arm! Pushed me clear out of the tree. That little! Bolgers, pah! My father wanted to kill him.”

They set up camp at the base of the tree while Bilba climbed higher and higher. They could barely understand what she was rambling about up in the branches.

“Be careful!” Thorin shot up as he saw her foot slip on a bit of moss.

“I'd like to see you climb a tree, master dwarf!” she shot right back. “Honestly. Fight a few battles and you think you know better than a hobbit about trees.”

Dwalin snickered.

Thorin just shook his head with a fond smile.

Oh, when had those smiles become so fond?

If Thorin were to try and describe what and who Bilba Baggins was, well, it would be very long and overly complicated. But he would say that he couldn't do it, just on principle, because he wasn't that kind of person.

He didn't do romantic.

Usually.

Not that this was.

But it would certainly sound that way if he spoke about her.

If he were asked to describe how he'd come to understand her, and care about her... he'd refuse. Because even he couldn't lie and say that he couldn't do it. He just didn't want to. Because that solidified everything, and nothing in his life was ever solid. It was always slipping away, and being torn from him, and everything was at the risk of being lost forever. He stood where all good things fell.

He was made of mountains and yet he had no rock to tie himself to.

And he was scared she was becoming that.

He had his family, his companions, his friends, but then she stumbled in with her simple curiosity and her dreams to know the extent of the world, and she charmed him.

So in return he was, in essence, a complete ass to her.

Because she was so simple and charming. She didn't need to know the world. It was not a pleasant place. It was not like her Shire. It was dark and bloody and full of monsters. And they would kill her. They would make her hurt, and they would make her bleed. They would kill her, and her bright little spirit.

A determined little thing, Bilba Baggins. She stood up to his every remark, and followed after them. She wormed her way in and before he knew it he worried for her. She was careless with a wit sharp enough to save herself, to save them.

She was clever.

Damn it.

He tried to cut her deep, to make her turn back.

Damn her.

Damn her for coming back and... making him feel like a complete ass.

So, he endeavored to be less terrible, which was easier than it should have been. And you'd think he'd never been nice to a person in his long life for all the looks he was getting from the rest of the company. The snickers from his nephews. The outright lewd looks from Dwalin, who certainly could not speak. He was obvious in the way he watched Ori.

Which became more and more odd every time he thought of it.

But there Dwalin sat, elbowing him in the dark of the forest, one of those looks on his face. “You've been making a lot of effort toward the halfling since the mountains,” Dwalin said

“She is owed as much.”

“Because she rushed in were sane folk fear to tread.”

Thorin sighed. “Why are we talking about this again? She saved my life. She was much braver than I gave her credit for.”

“Aye,” he nodded and looked up into the tree for any sight of her, but she'd gone too high. “A small thing like her leaving home at all is brave. And she was ready to die for you.”

“Yes, I know what has happened.”

“I'm just saying she's had a different kind of courage from the start, and I'm only just realizing it myself. Up and leaving her comforts to brave the wilds for a pack of strangers. To stand between us and Azog.”

He furrowed his brow and stared over at him. “You are being oddly insightful today. It's disconcerting.”

Dwalin smirked and gave him one of those looks. “You've been staring again, and everyone has noticed, halfling included. No one else has the balls to talk about it 'cept maybe Balin.”

“Not even my nephews. I find that hard to believe.”

“I think they're plotting something.”

He grimaced.

“Allow me to give a little insight of my own. You've been staring at Ori and you're lucky Dori hasn't noticed.”

“Aye,” he said, voice low and warning. “If you mention it to him I'll break your pretty nose. We'll see how much the hobbit fancies you then.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“What? You think she'd go for your busted nose?”

“No, that this is a matter of anyone _fancying_ anyone else. It is not. We are not discussing this,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's unprofessional, Dwalin.”

He snorted. “Ain't been unprofessional of me to get off with Ori in the night...”

Thorin rubbed his forehead. There were just things he didn't need to know. Ever. “Well now that you've made me aware of that fact, it is very unprofessional and you'll cease.”

“Oh, sure, the day you stop ogling Bilba.” He scoffed. “Because you've never slept with someone on the job before, eh. Portrait of professional.”

Thorin glared as he got up. “Dori? A word.”

“Yes?”

“You'll not say a damned word to him or I'll rip off your-”

“I was only going to tell him he had watch tonight,” Thorin raised an eyebrow at him.

Dori furrowed his brow “Is there something I should know, mister Dwalin?”

 

High above the world Bilba could not be bothered. The sun on her face was the most glorious thing she had ever felt. She could stay there in it's warmth forever. It was beautiful. Thousands of butterflies danced in the breeze and beyond them, the mountain stood. She took in a deep breath.

“How long does it take to climb a tree?” she heard echo up from the ground.

She laughed but didn't answer. She missed the Shire. Gods, she missed the Shire right now. What she wouldn't give for green grass under her feet and a soft bed.

“Bilba! Are you okay up there?”

She sighed and ducked below the leaves. “I'm fine! I'll be down in a minute.”

She took one last breath of clean air and started back down. She regretted it when she touched ground. There were groans of anger and annoyance through the camp. The rations were gone. There would be one more meal and then... nothing. Bofur sighed beside her. “Any good news?”

Her shoulders drooped. “The forest just goes on for a ways still, but I could see the mountain, and a lake.” She tired to smile, but the frowns around her were too much. “There is more behind us than ahead.”

That night, after Dwalin had been forced into watch duty with Dori (because, really, Thorin liked nothing better than torturing him on occasion), Bilba had her first nightmare. Thorin sat up late into the night with his pipe, watching her toss and turn.

He shook out his blanket and laid it over her shoulders gently and hoped it would sooth her sleep.

 

Mirkwood wasn't the first time Bilba had had to tighten her belt and trudge on. When she was but a tween there had been the Fell Winter. Wolves were in the Shire and there was little food. Many died... She had been lucky.

But she had nightmares there in those woods she had not known for nearly twenty years. She thought she'd grown out of them.

She woke the company one night with a scream.

Bifur and Bofur had been on watch, and Thorin had sat up unable to sleep again. Bilba tossed and turned on her pallet and muttered in her sleep. The dreams had gotten worse over the last few days. Thorin rose from his place nearby. Before he could reach out to wake her she snapped forward with a shrill cry. “No, stop!”

It made Thorin jump back, but then he saw how she quaked and wrapped her arms around her body and buried herself into her knees. The entire camp, having slept lightly on their empty stomachs, sat up grabbing their weapons. Thorin swooped down beside Bilba who was sobbing into her knees and apologizing.

“I'm sorry. So sorry. Please go back to sleep. It won't happen again.”

“Shh,” Thorin was oddly tender with her. He turned to a grumbling company and ordered them back to sleep. He tentatively wrapped and arm around her, pulled her into his side, and waited for the tears to stop. Most of the company had drifted off again by the time she calmed.

“Do you wish to speak about your nightmares? You have had them for the last three nights.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother anyone with them.”

“It is not a bother. It can help to talk about them, if you wish to.” That he had his own experience with.

She was quiet for a moment and Thorin found her leaning into him.

“These woods frighten me. They remind me of when I was a girl, especially now with no food and the winter approaching. At least there have been no wolves in these woods...” She buried her head into his shoulder to hide tears and he held her closer, his hands drifting up to cradle her head. “I was twenty-one when the Fell Winter happened. I'll never forget that year. Never... It's just... This all reminds of it.”

He remembered that year. He'd taken a number of jobs as a bodyguard that winter, escorting men and women between cities. He refused to let Fili or Kili out of the mountains. Dis had been more than willing to comply.

Bilba let a soft laugh. “I'm fifty... No, maybe fifty-one now? I cannot tell the days here. I shouldn't be having these dreams anymore.”

“It was a very dangerous year,” he said. “There is no shame in your nightmares. No one can control dreams.”

She pulled back for a moment to wipe her nose on her sleeve, but tucked her head back against Thorin's shoulder. “It was terrifying. I wasn't a very good child. I ran wild and explored the woods. I was everything I wasn't when I first started this quest. Solid and comfortable, they called me,” she tried to pull up a laugh but it caught in her throat. “A second edition of my father.” She shook her head. “There was a day in the beginning when I was out alone in Tuckborough and wolves came out of the trees. Four giant, white wolves... They chased me clear to the Great Smials where I hid with my grandfather and cousins as they howled and clawed at the door. A pair of rangers saved us that day. But my foolishness...” She bit her lip and tried to reign back her tears. “There was a hobbit man working outside... I didn't know. I only wanted to find somewhere safe. I led the wolves right past him. He was killed and it was my fault.” She sobbed new tears into her hands.

He rubbed small circles on her back. “They would have come regardless. No one was safe that winter. You are not to blame.”

She wiped her eyes on her sleeves. “My nightmare wasn't that. It used to be. Sometimes instead the wolves would get me. Sometimes they'd get inside and get Old Took. Sometimes my parents...” She took in a deep breath. “Instead of wolves it was Azog to chase me on that white warg. I ran back to my home where all of you were in my dining room. And you went out and tried to fight him. I... I couldn't save you in my dream.”

Thorin shifted and pulled her closer into his chest. “I am here and safe, Bilba. Because of you.” She nodded under his chin. “And we will all make it out of these woods, I swear.”

He'd spent so many long nights awake and worried about the company already. Their defeated looks, the bags under their eyes, their growling stomachs. He was responsible.

“Now here, lie down.” He eased her down onto her bed roll. “I shall be right here. We are all here and alive.” He leaned closer his voice a whisper, “Would it sooth your dreams for me to sleep here?”

“I... Yes, I think it would.”

“Okay,” he said and quietly moved to get his own bed roll. He laid on his side behind her and shifted closer, radiating heat towards her back. “Goodnight, Bilba.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Thorin.”

If she rolled over in her sleep and pressed into the dwarf's chest and he wrapped an arm around her, well, no one had to know.

 

Bilba wasn't sure how it happened. One minute she was asleep and the next she was up to her shoulders in sticky web and trying to wrestle her little sword free to kill a spider the size of a horse. She hated spiders. Oh, should could manage little pantry spiders. She'd even scoop them up in cup and put them out of the window. That didn't mean she liked them.

Nor did she like these elves very much. Sure they killed a few spiders, but they had marched her dwarves off and sealed them in their kingdom. If only she had slipped inside faster, she could have followed them. As it stood, she had missed her chance. When she finally slipped through the doors they were long gone.

She found herself ducking behind guards and down halls until she found herself standing off to the side of the throne room. There was swearing and someone was pushed forward from the dark halls. _Thorin_! She nearly shouted when she saw him, but bit her tongue.

She stayed far away, her back to the wall, as he was pushed towards an elf. The king, she had to assume. Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.

The elves here were nothing like those of Rivendell. They stood armored and waiting for battle always, where Elrond's people, though tense around the dwarves, had been good-natured. They smiled and laughed. Rivendell had been a welcoming place.

Bilba felt stifled here. The hair rose on the back of her neck and her heart was beating rabbit fast in her chest.

They unbound his hands and shoved him before the king. He stumbled. Bilba winced.

“Tell me, Thorin son of Thrain, what it is that you doing are in my forests?”

Thorin met him with silence and a clenched jaw.

“Well?” He leaned back on his throne and waited.

Thorin cocked his head. “Looking for food.”

“And before that?” Thranduil asked.

“Starving,” Thorin said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Why was he antagonizing him? Bilba wanted to run up and shake him. Did he not realize he was a prisoner.  _You imbecile_ , her mind screamed.  _You're damning all of us_ .

“And what brought you to the forest before that?” Bilba heard the anger rising in his voice.

Thorin didn't answer. Thranduil gave his guards a look and they bound Thorin's hands again.

“What have we done? Is it now a crime to be lost and hungry?” he asked.

“It is a crime to wander in my realm without leave. Do not forget that you are in my kingdom, Thorin Oakenshield. And if you do not feel inclined to answer my questions perhaps some time will loosen your tongue.” The guards started dragging him away as Thranduil rose from his throne. “A hundred years is but a blink of an eye to an elf. I'm patient. I can wait.”

Bilba followed as closely as she dared, slipping by elves, and through doors, and down stairs as she followed Thorin. But she didn't follow closely enough. A door was swung between them and a guard stood at its side. Bilba's eyes grew wide as saucers and her chest grew tight. No. No no no! She was going to lose him in here. She turned around, and paced, silently twisting her hands into the back of her hair, mussing up her braid.

She had to find another way. There had to be another way.

She found store rooms and bathrooms and even Thranduil's chambers. She nearly fell off of walkways and she's certain her shadow had been seen more than once walking into a lit room without thinking. But she was lost. She was endlessly, hopelessly lost.

Her friends were lost. Her family. They were now. They were absolutely family to her. She didn't sleep, she hardly ate. She just searched and worried herself sick.

Were Fili and Kili separated? She knew it would destroy them, but it would hurt Fili most of all.

Was Dwalin tearing down the walls for his freedom? For his king, and company? For Ori? Balin, she prayed, was trying to be diplomatic and save them.

She hoped Bofur would be able to keep up his spirits and smile, at least to lie and assure the company things would be okay. She hoped Bombur was with him, and Bifur.

Gloin would be possibly even more angry than Dwalin. He would beat stone to rubble to get free, because he had a wife and son to go home to. And he had a brother who he'd sworn to help on this journey. She hoped that Oin was at least left his ear trumpet.

Dori would be making himself sick with worry if Ori or Nori were out of his sight. Ori would be frightened. And she knew how the boy loved Dwalin, and how he'd be just a fierce as any warrior if he thought he was in trouble. Nori would be trying to pick the locks, and she hoped he succeeded. But if he were caught... she didn't want to think about it.

And then there was Thorin.

Thorin who held her when she had cried, and braided flowers in her hair. The man who scowled at her and smiled for her. Who yelled at her for climbing trees. Thorin made her chest tight and her stomach do flips.

And she couldn't bare it. She could not bare that he was in a dungeon and made to stumble before kings.

She had set foot out of her door with little more purpose than a good adventure and proving the arrogant dwarf wrong.

And she'd done that.

When had that changed into this? When had proving him wrong turned into wanting to sit next to him at meals, and brushing out her hair hoping he'd offer to braid it.

It lie somewhere between a suicide run and a crushing hug at sunrise.

It was somewhere in his smile.

Bilba shook her head. Now she just sounded like some awful, lovesick tween. It was almost as bad as dealing with Lalia gushing over her cousin.

She ducked around yet another corner and flattened herself against a wall as a pair of elves walked by. She wasn't sure what she was going to do. Every hall looked the same as the last.

It took her a week to find anyone.


	4. Foolhardy Tooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If there is one thing I've learned about hobbits, Miss Baggins, it is that you are most hardy folk."

Thranduil's halls were nothing like those of Rivendell. They were twice as confusing, but even when she had felt she could get used to the twisting nature of Rivendell, she feared the halls of the Woodland Realm would consume her. They were cold and not in the least welcoming.

She clutched her hands to her chest and twisted her ring as she combed the halls for signs of her friends. She trailed guards and ducked away from all others.

It took too long, too very long until she found the first dwarf. Had it been days? Weeks? She couldn't tell. It was forever the same here, and she had hardly dared to sleep. She stole what little food she needed to manage.

She found Oin first, and what brilliant luck that was. She could only whisper and he was without his trumpet. She frantically tried to recall any of the signs she had puzzled out from Bifur, but she could think of nothing she could use to speak with him. She remained ducked back in the shadows, ring still on her finger, and though it hurt to do it she continued past his cell without so much as a word.

She stumbled upon more cells as she went. Seven dwarves were kept along the hall. Gloin had been gruff, as expected. When he asked about Oin she frowned. “He looked well enough, but I haven't spoken with him. He wouldn't be able to hear me.”

“I understand.”

She wrung her hands. She'd been told once before she wasn't allowed to be taught any of the iglishmêk, but she figured she had to ask again. “Is there any way I can tell him that you're okay, and that I will find us a way out of this? I know I'm not supposed to learn dwarvish. What if you just taught me a sign without telling me what exactly it meant?”

He almost considered it but apologized instead. “I'm sorry. Maybe if you find a scrap of paper you can give him a note.”

She nodded.

Ori was miserable, but he had paper in one of his pockets she could use to speak with Oin. “When they searched us they took all of our weapons, but they'd didn't really care to take anything else,” he said holding up a small notebook. “But I haven't got anything to write with.”

“That's fine. This is perfect. I'll find something.”

“Have you found my brothers yet?”

“No, I'm sorry.”

“Dwalin?” he asked.

She could only shake her head.

She found Fili at the end of the hall pacing in his cell, but there was no sign of Kili. He was practically tearing his hair out thinking of his little brother. Bilba could do nothing to calm him down. Her promises to find him did nothing to help. He reached through the bars and put a hand on the back of her neck and rested their foreheads together between the bars, a gesture of affection. “You're like a sister to me, so be careful. You know I trust you with our lives, right? I trust you to find him. I'm just scared, namad.”

She bit back tears. “I'm scared too, but I will find him.”

“Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu,” he said. “May Mahal's hammer shield you.”

“Thank you.”

He laughed. “I could hear you and Gloin up the hall. I wouldn't mind teaching you some Khuzdul. It's a stupid rule.”

“And what are you going to do? Change it when you're king?”

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I will.”

 

It took another day and night of searching to find the hall where the rest of the dwarves were held, save for Thorin who was still lost.

When she found Dwalin he was punching the cell bars. She had to duck behind a corner as the guards came through bringing rations. There was a particularly frightened guard assigned to Dwalin. He put his meal on the ground and slid it closer with a pole. Apparently on the first night they had been unfortunate enough to be grabbed. They did not make that mistake twice. Still, she watched the guard slide over his meal as Dwalin grew frustrated and head-butted the bars while swearing. When she was finally sure they were alone she slipped off her ring.

“Dwalin!” she hissed

The dwarf did a double take. “Mahal's beard! What are you doing here, lassie? You'll be caught!”

“I'm fine,” she assured him. “I've found almost everyone. I've been trying to figure out an escape plan.”

He just growled. “I can't do a thing to break out of here.”

“I'll find a key. I have to find Nori still, and Thorin.”

“Nori'll be down the hall. I've heard him swearing at the tree-shagging bastards.”

“And Thorin?” she asked hopefully.

Dwalin just made a face and sat. “No. Find him soon though.”

“I will. I'll try,” she promised, her hand gripping one of the bars between them.

“Aye, I know you will. You do right by us. Better than we deserve.”

She just shook her head with a smile. “What else is family for.”

Dwalin smiled back. “How are the rest of the lads?”

“Not happy,” she said and eased down to sit against the bars. “Balin had a message, before I forget.”

“Aye?”

“Don't do anything stupid,” she huffed a small laugh. “Seems too late for that. What were you thinking, grabbing a guard?”

“I was thinking I wanted to rip his smug head from his shoulders.”

She shrugged. “Ori's keeping up spirits,” she said. “He'll be glad to know you're alright. Even if you've probably bruised your head, hitting the bars like that.” She fingered the ring in her pocket, eyes looking up and down the corridors.

“Tell him not to do anything foolish.”

“He's not you,” she laughed. “But I'll tell him. I'll let him know you're worried.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

She got up and brushed off her pants. “I'll find a way out. I just have to find the rest of us first.”

Dwalin was quiet as she slipped on her ring and went off in search of their favorite kleptomaniac. True to Dwalin's word he was at the end of the hall. He'd been sneaky. He listened and remembered and memorized the comings and goings of the elves.

“It'll be four hours before they come back and eight more after. That'll be night. They're always very prompt.”

She nodded. That was good. She could find a way to use that, she was sure. But she still had one question left. “Have you seen Thorin?”

“No, Miss Bilba, 'fraid I haven't. But I hear grumbling. Nobody likes the prison held the level below us.” Well, that was new.

“I haven't been below. I didn't know there was anything lower than this.”

Nori nodded. “I'll bet he's there. If only I had my lock picks,” he lamented. “Have you found our gear?”

“Locked away. I've not found the key.”

He hummed. “I trust you'll find one. If we get out of here I'll teach you to pick a lock. Good skill for a burglar.”

 

The stairs down were dark and hidden in the walls. It took a day to find the right stairway. She hadn't dared to trail behind any guards. She would take too deep a breath, scuff a foot over the floor, her shirt would rustle, her stomach would growl... she'd made too many elves pause mid-stride and look around already.

The hall was long and dark. The air was damp. She could hear running water as if it were beneath her.

When she saw him she wanted to run to him. She wanted to call out. It had been so long since she'd seen him. His cell was tucked in a corner and there was a space to stand where she'd been unseen by any approaching guards.

She looked back before slipping off her ring and ducking into the little alcove. “Thorin.”

His head shot up and when he saw her it was like he'd seen a ghost. He couldn't believe his eyes. He must have been going crazy down here. He scrambled to his feet and rushed to her side. “Bilba! How? What are you doing here?”

She nearly collapsed with relief. She sunk back against the stone wall. He didn't look so bad. A bit too thin for her liking, a bit too defeated, but he wasn't hurt. “I'm so glad you're alright.”

He shook his head. “How long have you been down here?”

“Nori says,” she cut herself off with a yawn. “It's been nearly two weeks now.”

“Two weeks? How have you not been caught?”

“You remember that ring I told you all about? I wasn't making it up. It makes me invisible.” She took it out of her pocket and slipped it on for proof.

His eyes went wide. “Take it off!” Thorin's hand shot out through the bars and caught her arm. She was quick to obey. “Magic rings are not to be trifled with.” And Bilba saw actual fear in his eyes and she didn't understand.

“It's just a simple ring,” she said and held out for him to see. He cautiously held out his hand to take it. The second she dropped it into his palm to inspect he grabbed her wrist and forced it back to her as if it burned him.

“I would not wear that thing if the mere act of putting it on would slay the dragon. There is a darkness in that.”

“That's ridiculous.”

Thorin shook his head, his eyes never leaving the ring as she slipped it back into her pocket. “Only wear it when you absolutely must,” he begged.

“That is always in this place or else I will be caught.”

He refused to see magic corrupt her as it had his family. He still lived in fear of the day his nephews began to show signs of sickness in their blood. “Flee. Leave and do not come back. Your safety-”

“Oh, shut up. As I have told everyone else, I'm here to get you out. I've made a promise, and I very well intend to keep it.” She scowled, hands on her hips and her chin held high.

His voice was soft. “Promise me you will take it off any time that you can.”

“Thorin!”

“Promise me.”

She looked into his eyes and saw all the worry that he didn't mask. She deflated. “Okay. Fine... I don't understand this fear of yours, but fine.”

Thorin nodded. “This place is hidden enough, and I will be able to see the guards coming before they will be able to see you. Stay here to rest without that ring.”

She sighed. It had been days since she went any real length of time without the ring. It was days since she'd lived in a world that didn't come to her through gray smoke and muffled sounds. She covered her mouth as another yawn came.

“You're tired. Rest, Bilba.”

So she did. It took a long while to readjust to a normal world. She hid only when a guard came with Thorin's ration. He made her take half of it, even though he tried to make her take the whole thing. Her cheeks were hollow, and her shirt hung looser than he remembered. When he told her that she frowned and said that he looked the same. Too thin and tired. So they compromised.

Later that night, several hours now free of the ring, she began to whisper beside him. “It is very cold in the ring's world. And all the color is stripped away.” She was laying down beside his cell in the little alcove, and he sat up just beside her. She reached though the bars and took his hand, almost ready to apologize for wanting the small comfort of another person, but he tightened his grip around her's. He was grateful for the small comfort as well. “It's been days since I was without it. I didn't even realize how cold it was after a while, or how distant this world was. It's like it's made my brain foggy.”

“Magic rings are dangerous things,” he said. “Once, long ago, the seven kingdoms of the dwarves were gifted such rings. They drove the kings mad and poisoned their lines. My grandfather had one such ring, passed down through my family. Had it not been lost it would have come to me.”

“Thorin...”

“My blood is just as tainted as theirs. That ring will bring you nothing good,” he said quietly. “I do not wish to see you lost to whatever evils that ring brings. When our quest is over, please, let me see it destroyed.”

Bilba pulled her hand away and laid it over her pocket. “But...” She avoided his gaze as he stared at her. “Should it really come to that?” She wasn't sure why she cared so much about the ring.

She slowly eased her hand back down and found Thorin's again.

“Bilba,” there was something absolutely destroyed in his voice. It was a thousand years old, haunted and chilled.

“...Okay,” she nodded, thinking it over. “If you think it would be best.”

“Yes, Bilba. More than you could know.”

 

She left Thorin after he'd fallen asleep and made her way through the halls, trying to keep track of which halls led where. In a hall near to Thorin's she found her miracle. There was a door. Well, a kind of door. A chute, really. But it was a way out! It was the only exit she had seen other than main gates.

But there was a guard, but the guard had the keys. She was tempted to just run up and snatch them. Only briefly. It was a foolish, Tookish thing to do.

Maybe Nori would have an idea.

The closer she came to the surface the louder it got that night. To get to Nori's cell she had to pass Kili's, but someone was there.

“It's just a token,” he said. “My mother gave it to me so I would remember my promise.”

“What promise?” she overheard a clearly female voice. She stalled when she saw an elf as Kili's cell. _There shouldn't be guards here now!_

“That I would come back to her. She's always worrying. She thinks I'm reckless,” he said. Bilba stood flat against the wall, watching. The elf sat down by Kili's cell.

“Are you?”

“Nah.” Of course it was that moment something clattered and skidded out of his cell. The elf picked it up and turned it over in the light. “Do you think I'll ever get out of here?”

She frowned. “Your leader had been most uncooperative. If you wished to tell your story to the king, maybe...”

Kili shook his head. “I can't do that.”

She nodded. “I understand. In your place I would do the same.”

“He's my uncle. I could never betray him like that. He raised me and my brother like we were his own sons.”

She nodded quietly. “That is something I understand better than most, master Kili.”

A loud laugh came from down the hall and they both turned to it. A pair of elves stumbled past. “Tauriel,” one called. "Come join us!" he slurred.

She shook her head. “Perhaps later.”

Neither seemed to notice or care she was sitting with the prisoners and continued on their way.

“Are you missing a party or something?”

She laughed. “Only a small one. There was a birth a few hours ago. It is not very often children are born here, so we celebrate. Some too much. Still, this is nothing. In three days every elf in the kingdom will likely be occupied by festivities. It will be Mereth-en-gilith, the Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar, but wood elves love best the light of the stars.”

“I've always thought it was a cold light. Remote and far away.”

“No, no,” she sounded almost taken aback. “It is memory,” she explained. She spoke about the stars like poetry. How she walked in their light as the world fell away. There was such wonder in her voice even Bilba smiled and wanted to go over to her. She very quietly inched closer. “It is... like your promise,” she told him.

He smiled to that and sat down next to the bars of his cell. “I saw a fire moon once,” Kili said. “Huge,” he motioned with his hands. “Red and gold, it was. We'd taken an escort job for some merchants. I wish I could show you. It was beautiful.”

As Kili went on he started flirting with his prison guard. Bilba didn't need to hear him wax poetic about how her red hair reminded him of that moon. She smiled and shook her head before slipping down a different hall. As she snuck up towards the kitchens she had to dodge more and more drunken elves, and caught more and more talk of Mereth-en-gilith. This seemed her perfect chance.

 

When she came back down Kili was tapping a tune against the bars. Bofur was just starting to stretch awake. She slipped off her ring in front of Bofur's cell and he jolted at the sight of her. “Don't scare me like that, Bilba.”

“Sorry.”

Kili pressed his face to the bars of his cell trying to see down the hall. “Bilba?”

“I'm here.”

“Have you seen my brother recently?”

She nodded and made her way down towards him. “Earlier today, or last night maybe. Time gets all confused here. He's still worried about you, no matter what I tell him.”

“Oh,” his shoulders slumped. He looked depressed, but she couldn't fault him. Everyone had reason to be. “Bilba?”

“Yes?”

“I need something, anything, to get my mind off of this place. Could you tell me a story?”

She hummed. “I suppose I could. That guard won't be back anytime soon, will she?”

His eyes went wide. “You saw that?”

“Tauriel, was that her name?”

He nodded. “She won't be back.”

“Okay, well,” she walked away a bit and fixed herself between Bofur and Kili's cells. “Do you want to listen as well?”

“Sure, lass. Anything to keep my mind out of this place is welcome,” he said.

She sat down against the wall, and spoke just loudly enough they could hear, but not to carry down the hall. “Oh, what's something good?” she wondered to herself. So many of the stories she knew had elves, and she doubted they would appreciate those tales. “Old Took told me this one when I was very young. It's all about the origins of Tooks, and indeed even hobbits to some extent. Us Tooks are cursed,” she said.

“Really?” Kili asked. “You don't seem cursed.”

“Oh, it's very true. It's an old fae curse in our blood, you see. It's from long, long ago, so long it is almost beyond remembering. Hobbits didn't always live in the Shire. We lived far to the east, over the Misty Mountains, in the shadow of a great forest. No one quite knows why we left the lands.”

“Perhaps goblins,” Bofur offered.

“Perhaps,” she nodded. It seemed as good an answer as any. “Well, in the beginning, Tooks were not so adventurous as a whole, but sometimes you got one or two who wanted to see beyond the borders of their lands. One day a pair of them, brother and sister, left to wander the paths of the woods. Along the way they were lost and got separated. The older of the two, the brother, managed to find his way out. He devised a plan to go back into the woods, but leave a trail so that when he found his sister they would be able to find their way back home.

“What he didn't know was that his sister was hardly lost. Hobbits knew of the fae that lived in those woods and she had left her brother behind to find their secret village. She was quite greedy and didn't want to share them with her brother. She found them, far off from the trails, and was so enchanted she stayed for a very long time.”

“Are fairies actually real?” Kili asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course they are, don't be silly,” she waved a dismissive hand. “We see stone giants in the mountains, and I have a magic ring that makes me invisible, and you're going to question fairies? How else would we be cursed? Now, as I was saying, the girl always meant to go home, but when it comes to fairies, one loses track of the time. Indeed, it was many years before she realized she needed to go home. In all that time she had met a fairy man that she had come to love very much, and together they had a baby. But the baby was very much like a hobbit, and like all hobbits craved to be in the sunlight. So they, and the fairy, left the fae lands for home.

“This boy was the first true Took. He's why were tend to be more fair than other hobbits, and far more strange. Hobbits live quiet lives and never go off on crazy adventures, save for us. Most odd, and highly disrespectible behavior,” she said.

“That's probably the best curse I've ever heard of. Normally they're like being cursed to be ill, or have some kind of evil. You just go adventuring,” he said.

“Well that's all fine for you, but among most hobbits that's considered a bad thing,” she said. “When I was young I always used to run off and wander the woods looking for fairies. I never did find one, but my Old Took always used to say that once day, if I looked hard enough, I'd find one and they would have to write whole new tales all about me,” she laughed. “Bilba Baggins and the Great Fae of the Shire.”

Bofur laughed. “Well, they can always write about Bilba Baggins and the Quest for Erebor.”

She smiled. “Perhaps they shall. Wouldn't that be crazy, stories about me and a load of dwarves.”

“We'll get Ori to write it,” Bofur said.

Kili smiled at her. “I'm glad you're cursed.”

“I think I am too. If only it could help me come up with a foolproof plan to get us out of here.”

“Did you hear about Mereth-whatever?” Kili asked.

She smirked. “I did, and you know, I'm really liking the sound of it. I didn't really sit and listen to you and that elf for very long. What all can you tell me about it?”

Lucky for her, they did end up talking about it much more.

 

“You're a good luck charm,” she said as she slipped off her ring and wrapped her hands around the bars. “I found you and everything started to fall into place!” She beamed as Thorin moved over to her. Of course all he could see what that she looked half wasted away.

“You need to rest,” he told her for likely the tenth time. “You're barely standing.”

“I'll rest when I'm dead,” she grumbled and waved around a hand. “I couldn't if I wanted to. I'm so stressed I'd need some kind of sleeping draught to even try. But, Thorin, I found a way out. And I found the perfect time to do it! I just need to find a way around the guard who is always in the room.”

She went on about wine cellars and a guard with the keys and how basically the entirety of the kingdom would be caught up in a celebration soon. She looked so happy, so relieved. The sun shone out of that smile. It could light forges. But as she tried forming ideas her face started to fall, and she twisted her hands in her hair and paced. Her momentarily proud shoulders now slumped. “Oh, what are we going to do? We've only get three days. I don't know how to take care of the guard. I'm not strong enough to knock him out,” she turned around and looked at him, eyes full of fear. “I can't kill him. Don't even think to ask me to do that. Oh, what am I going to do? All this quest and I've never felt so helpless as I do now.”

“If there is one thing I've learned about hobbits, Miss Baggins, it is that you are most hardy folk.” His smile came easy. Never mind she looked like she's not slept since that night in the forest, never mind she was covered in grime. She had deep bags under her eyes and her hair stood out in every which way. She was beautiful. Right here, right now, in this moment she was more beautiful than anyone he'd ever laid eyes on.

She covered her face as she yawned. Oh. _Oh_!

“Foolhardy, maybe,” she said and slowly a smile dawned on her face. “I'm a Took.” Sweet Mother, she'd just had an idea.

“And what's that mean exactly,” Thorin reached out and cradled his hand against the back of her neck.

“Oh, just, that I'm likely about to do something very foolish indeed.”

“Me too.”

And he kissed her there, through the bars of his cell. Soft and chaste.

She flushed down to her feet and stammered. “Na-na-na-not quite what I had planned on. But-but very...” she was smiling. Bilba reached through the bars then, her hands pushing through his hair, and pulled him back for another, much deeper kiss.

Oh, it should be scandalous. It would even embarrass her wildest Took relations.

She pulled away and almost laughed at how flushed Thorin's face had gone.

“I'll be back,” she smiled.

“Be safe.”

“Whenever am I not?” And she vanished. As she walked away she looked back at him, smiling into the empty hall. She slapped a hand over her mouth. That had been a stupid thing to do. She hadn't brushed her teeth in weeks. She was glad she was invisible. She looked as red as her tomatoes.

 

She hissed at Oin and threw the small notebook Ori had given her at him in the cell. Inside she had tucked something to write with. It had been their only means of communication since she'd found him, and then it was mostly used to pass messages from Gloin.

_Instructions to make a strong sleeping draught._

He furrowed his brow and stared at her wanting a reason, but she just flailed her arms urging him silently to be swift. He chewed his lips as he wrote as clearly as he could, noting at the bottom to _very_ careful.

Bilba looked it over once he was finished, and satisfied with it she nodded and vanished.

As she headed to the upper levels to look for the ingredients she needed she heard screaming. It was guttural and she went stock still as she recognized the harsh sounds of black words. There was an orc. Every inch of her wanted to run, wanted to flee and hide away in the dungeons.

Azog still haunted her dreams.

If he was here, she had no more time.

She swallowed hard and pushed herself onward towards to source of the shouting.

There was a black orc being dragged into the throne room, an elf she had identified as Legolas, had a blade to his throat. Tauriel came running past her from the dungeons. She hardly had the chance to jump out of her way.

Her blood was cold in her veins. She stood, back against a wall, as Thranduil stepped down from his throne. “Tell me, why are you in my lands?”

The orc spat at his feet and Legolas pressed the blade so that it drew blood. Thranduil held up a hand to stop him.

“I shall ask once more. Your people have burned and cut down our trees along your trek. By all rights, I should kill. I'm willing to negotiate. What is your purpose here?”

He snarled. “We come in search of the fool, Oakenshield. He comes through your wood. Tell us how long since he passed and we will spare your realm more damage.”

He gave him a look like he was actually considering it. “Oakenshield, fool as he may be, would not dare come into my kingdom. He knows well to avoid my people, as mine know to avoid his. You, orc, seem to be the foolish one.”

“Does the Great Thranduil allow dwarves through his domain unnoticed? Has he slipped so far into the darkness and his sickness that he is blind?”

Not even a slight twitch betrayed him. “If they dare travel then they travel around. I am tempted to let you return to your master, orc. Who do you serve?”

He smirked. “I know the smell of dwarf. They came by your roads. Roads covered in darkness. I serve the One, and it is his darkness that lies here, and it is his power that led me here.”

“I see,” he said calmly and walked over to him. In a flash the blade that Legolas held was in Thranduil's hand and the orc's head was rolling across the floor. “Have the rest of them disposed of.” He turned to Tauriel then, “See that the guard is doubled along the road, and increased along the western and southern borders of the realm. We shall have no more orcs here.”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded and hurried away.

“What of the dwarves?” Legolas asked.

“What of them?”

As soldiers began to march up the hall Bilba fled ahead of them to where she hoped the herbs she needed were kept. She had no time to waste.

 

It took her two days to find everything, and in the early morning hours of Mereth-en-gilith she put her plan into action. The guard with the keys would come in the evening. She'd heard him complaining about having to miss most of the party. He would, as usual, be drinking his wine. Bilba snuck down and fixed enough of the bottles with the draught that it would be impossible for him to choose one that wouldn't knock him out.

She had mixed it up _very_ strong.

Luck was on her side.

It took barely a minute to take effect over him and he slumped over in his chair. She stared at him for a long moment, and very nearly reached out to shake him. Oh. Oh, dear she hoped it wasn't _too_ strong.

She wrung her hands in her shirt before she reached out and nicked the keys. High on adrenaline she ran.

She found Thorin first, on her way back up. “Shh,” she hissed at him. “They're having a party tonight. No one is going to be around for a while yet. So be very quiet and follow me,” she said unlocking his door.

She grabbed him by the sleeve and tried to pull him along. And really, she should have been bothered by the way he pulled her into his arms when they were on such a tight schedule, but it felt too nice to care for that moment. “You're brilliant,” he whispered.

“I haven't gotten you out yet, so save the compliments.” She pulled Sting out of her belt and pushed it into his hands. “Just, if someone does come after us I can vanish. I don't want you unarmed.”

She hushed the dwarves as she released them and they each gathered together with their families. Fili nearly knocked her over to grab Kili. Thorin couldn't hold back a laugh as he grabbed both of them. Fili broke away and crushed Bilba, a bit too roughly, into his chest.

“I told you I'd bring Kili to you.”

“I didn't doubt you for a second, namad.”

She smiled but pushed him down the hall. “We don't have much time. Come on, come on.”

When Thorin saw her great idea he nearly wanted to take back his claims of her brilliance. She was going to drown them.

“Please,” she begged to a stiff and complaining company. “Just get into the barrels before someone notices you're gone!”

She was met with glares and refusal. She turned to Thorin, pleading and desperate. Even if the idea worried him, it was their only chance. “Do as she says,” he ordered and started towards the barrels and helped make sure everyone was in and the lids closed tightly. “What about you?”

“There's no time for that. Get into the barrel, Thorin.”

“How are you going to get out?”

“I have that all sorted out. Don't worry. Now for the love of the Mother, get into that barrel, Thorin!” She stamped a foot and pushed him by the shoulders. Of course, she had absolutely nothing sorted out and hadn't even thought of how to get into her own barrel.

“Bilba,” he started.

“Don't fight me on this. Please, don't fight me. Just do what I'm telling you, you stubborn dwarf. Gods, Thorin. There is no more time!”

He hesitantly moved to climb in, but stopped and turned back to her.

“Thorin!”

He kissed her before sliding in. “Be careful,” he said before she fitted his lid. Her hands shook as she looked around scared the guard would wake any moment, or someone would notice their escape.

It was now or never. With a deep breath she pulled the lever and they all plummeted into the river. Bilba clung to the outside of Thorin's barrel, terrified that if she let go she'd be swept under and drown.

From the first moment her head went under she was reminded precisely why hobbits avoided water.

She screamed and water filled her mouth.

This was the stupidest idea she'd ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Khuzdul I use in this story will come from work by The Dwarrow Scholar. Specifically I have been using these two documents:
> 
> http://www.scribd.com/doc/109354767/neo-Khuzdul-Common-Sayings-v1
> 
> http://www.scribd.com/doc/98387422/Khuzdul-Dictionary-E-K-v01-JUN12


	5. Foolhearted and Softhearted and Wholehearted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted to give her gardens.

She was cold and sopping wet. It was the end of autumn and she could hardly feel her hands. What a lucky day it was too. The first snows of winter were starting to come down.

And Thorin had the _audacity_ to grumble at her?! If she hadn't been about to fall over she would have slapped him. “I'm sorry? You're alive, aren't you? And you're out of prison. Now, you can help me get the others out of their barrels, so that we can all go to your dragon infested mountain. The mountain that you, not me, mind you, wanted to go to!” She hit him on the shoulder as she stumbled by to pry open the rest of the lids.

Thorin, still grumbling, followed.

One by one battered dwarves, and some half-drowned ones, climbed free, each more unhappy than the last. Bilba was growing steadily less and less angry and more and more weak. She couldn't keep up any kind of anger. She just wanted to lie down.

When they were all sprawled on the bank Thorin finally took note of her. Dejected, drowned, and in much worse condition than the rest having ridden outside of the accursed barrels. Damn her for lying. He should have put her in a barrel himself.

He pulled up a smile. "I am sorry," he said, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You're brilliant.” And behind her again, like some kind of sign, there it was. Erebor. Thorin couldn't contain himself. He grabbed her around the waist and picked her up. “You are brilliant!”

And really, she should have objected to being lifted and spun around like a girl in spring, but bother it all. She put her hands on his shoulders and let him make an ass out of the pair of them, even if it made her incredibly dizzy.

"We're nearly there," he said as she touched ground... and promptly collapsed into his chest.

"Sss-ss-sorry," she stuttered, pulling herself up by his shoulders.

Joy vanished for the sake of concern. "Bilba?"

"I'm ff-fine," but a blind man could tell she was shaking. With the adrenaline high gone from her system she was crashing and fast.

Bofur shook his head. “No, lass. Your lips are turning blue! We've got to you warmed up!”

“Start a fire,” Thorin barked and pulled his furs around her. “Do we have anything dry?”

Bofur said something to Bifur, who had stayed mostly dry. He shucked off his outer layer and passed it over. Dwalin tossed over a green cloak he'd managed to keep hold of. Bofur chewed his lips. Bilba was wracked with another fit of shivers and clung to Thorin's shoulder for support. “We've got to get her out of those clothes,” he told him.

Thorin nodded.

Gloin still had his tinderbox and had been trying to light to a pile of sticks that was quickly growing as the company came out of the trees with more and more dry wood. Thorin held Bilba away from his chest and looked her over. “Can you change on your own?”

“I-I-” she fumbled with numb fingers and failed to undo even one button.

He reached out and took her hands in his. She was colder than death.

“Bofur,” he said. Bilba tried to stand on her own but wobbled. Thorin caught her under the arm.

“Aye,” Bofur frowned. “Do you trust me to help you? I won't if'n you don't want me to. I'll understand.”

Bilba nodded. “I-I trust yyy-you.” She was too cold to care about modesty, her brain was too waterlogged to even give it a thought. Even if it wasn't she would have seen the sense in it. She was about to freeze to death.

“The rest of you turn your backs,” Bofur said to the company. “Give the lass some privacy.” Not that any would have ever dared look when she was at her lowest point. Still, they stayed turned. Thorin held her upright as Bofur stripped her down and dried her off with Dwalin's cloak and dressed her in Bifur's rough shirt that hung to her knees. “Alright, Bilba. You feeling better now?” He ushered her close to the fire and sat her down. Thorin wrapped her again in his furs.

Sensing it was safe, the company turned to see their savior. Fili and Kili immediately flanked her, pressing close and offering warmth which she gladly took, resting her head on Fili's shoulder.

“Namad, are you alright?" Fili said. Bilba couldn't answer through the chattering.

“Namad,” Balin said with a nod. “That's fitting.”

Kili smiled. “It's perfect. I always wanted a little sister.”

Thorin gave Fili a pat on the shoulder. She'd earned a place in this family several times over.

“Soon as she's warm we need to make for the town,” Dwalin said.

“Agreed. It's too open here and too close to the elves,” Gloin said.

Then the coughing started. It racked her already quivering frame. It was soon followed by sneezing, and despite the chill they decided it was better to move her now to somewhere with four walls than sit another moment in the wilderness and the falling snow. It was only going to get darker and colder.

“Fili,” she mumbled as she walked hooked between the brother's arms, “You smell like apples.”

He gagged. “Don't remind me. I'll never eat another apple as long as I live. I'm outlawing them as soon as I'm king. My barrel reeked of them. If I never smell another apple again it'll be too soon.”

Thorin and Balin led the way, talking amongst themselves. “If I remember correctly, there ought to be a village before we reach the lake.”

Thorin nodded. “It may still be there. We can only hope.”

As it happened it was not. So they trudged on until they reached the Long Lake and the bridge that led into it's center where a town floated on the water. “We'll have you somewhere to rest soon,” Fili promised.

“Riding outside of a barrel doesn't really constitute as a plan,” Kili quietly scolded her. Thorin made a noise ahead of them. At least now he didn't have to say it, though he'd still likely have words with her later.

“It w-was my only choice.”

“I know,” he frowned. “I'm sorry. We're all just worried about you, is all.”

“I don't need wor-wuh,” she sneezed. “Worrying after,” she finished.

Fili smirked. “You've been worrying after us for how long now? It's our turn to take care of you.”

 

As they approached the guards over the bridge most of the company stiffened. Most had been too young to know Esgaroth, and those who did remember it recalled it as something much less... dark.

“Who are you? What brings you here?” The guards had their hands resting by the swords.

Thorin took a deep breath and held his head high. “I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain.” And he sounded like it. Even in torn clothes and with knots in his hair, even through the swimming in her head, Thorin sounded like a king. “We have returned to reclaim what is ours. I would meet with your master.”

There were excited murmurs from nearby townspeople. The rumors spread like wildfire.

“And who are the rest of these?” The guard asked with a raised eyebrow.

“My heirs, my kin, and my company,” Thorin said nodding back towards them. “I see no need for your hostility,” he said looking at the captain's hand on his sword. “We come unarmed. We are with injured and sick. Take us to your master.”

The man nodded after a moment. “Follow me then.”

There was a crowd gathered before they reached the center of town and the whispers of a prophecy followed them down the streets.

 

Whatever transpired once they got to the center of town was a blur to Bilba. Thorin made some kind of ridiculous speech (which got them dinner so she couldn't complain) and there were a lot of cheers from the townspeople. She had no idea what this prophecy nonsense was about. Oin seemed particularly happy about all of it as he poked and prodded her at the table. Apparently there were songs and poems. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes, and made her open her mouth so he could see down her throat. “There's no spots. That's good. You need food, and a lot of rest. Tell me, are you feeling queasy at all?”

“No.”

Oin nodded. “Good, good. Well eat and we'll see about finding a place to rest after.”

Thorin watched her from his place next to the Master at the head of the table. The Master only wished to speak of gold and trade, and Thorin indulged him. He'd already provided them a house, and promised to provide provisions. Thorin's fist clenched and unclenched in his lap. He wondered how long it would be before he started asking for obscene amounts of payment. All he really cared about in that moment was how Bilba coughed and sneezed, sandwiched between Dwalin and Kili.

She must have dozed off at the table because she jolted straight up in her chair as Dwalin roared with laughter beside her. She took a look around the table. Bofur was a tick beyond drunk and singing some obscene song about beards and breasts. Gloin was having some kind of drinking contest with Nori. She turned to Kili beside her, but he was gone. Instead the empty seat was quickly filled with Balin who had just wandered down from the head of the table.

“You alright there, lass?”

“Better,” she said. It wasn't true, but at least she wasn't as cold as before.

“They've given as a place to stay. Thorin wants me to take you over, if you're done eating that is.”

She nodded. “As done as I will be.”

“Alright,” he said and gathered up a few more of the group. Dwalin, Ori, Oin and Bifur decided to turn in.

Once outside the bitter air went right through her. Bifur said something and put a hand on her back to guide her. She remembered how to sign a thank you. Bifur nodded with a smile and made sure she didn't step off of the walkways.

Ori was giddy as they made it through the streets and clung to Dwalin's arm. “You've had too much to drink, lad.”

“I have not. Look, we're so close to the mountain! I'm excited is all.”

He smirked. “You're just excited your brother'll be away a few hours yet.”

 

The house was large enough to hold thirteen dwarves and a hobbit but not much else. Bilba fell into a bed upstairs and was immediately dead to the world. She didn't notice as Oin gave her another a look over to make sure she was alright. She didn't realize she had woken up just long enough for someone to lift her head from the pillow and for Oin to pour some concoction down her throat. She slept clear through a very loud row downstairs, and possibly the breaking of a chair over Dwalin's head before Dori was restrained. She slept through the next morning as the dwarves came in and out of her room to check on her and offer her thanks for saving them yet again.

When she did finally wake up it was afternoon. Bombur made her as much soup as she could hold and the company sat and kept her company in her room, telling all kinds of old stories. Gloin had a hundred tales of the mishaps of his son Gimli, but Fili had even more about he and his brother.

She couldn't stay awake through all of it, occasionally dozing off, but she laughed with them and complained when they tried to take care of her.

She coughed and sneezed and whined her way through several days in her little room in Esgaroth. All the while the dwarves brought her anything should even dared think about, and several things she didn't want (namely Oin's medicines).

She vaguely remembered waking up once with her hand in Thorin's, like those nights in the halls of Mirkwood. She woke up again as he stood up from the edge of her bed.

“Thorin?”

“Go back to sleep,” he said softly as he walked away.

“Wait.”

He stopped and turned back to her.

“Sit down,” she sat up and patted the bed. “I haven't been able to talk to you since we got here.” He sat down, but with only the moonlight through a foggy window she couldn't make out his face. “What's been going on?”

She didn't see him grimace. “We've been in negotiations with the master here for supplies. We've met some trouble from the captain of his soldiers, but nothing we can't handle. The master doesn't seem fond of him so it hasn't been much trouble. I must admit I almost prefer his company to that of the master. But he does not want us to go to Erebor.”

“So, we'll have supplies,” she said, and he nodded. “How long is it until Durin's Day?”

“Let me worry about the mountain.”

She frowned into the darkness. “I'll just worry about the dragon then, shall I?”

He winced. “It is eight days from now. We have plenty of time. Do not dwell on Smaug.”

“How can I not?” She had a small coughing fit and Thorin handed her water from the table.

“I'll do all I can to see you're safe... But, you're the only one we can send down there.”

She smiled to herself. “All this from the dwarf who swore not to be responsible for my safety or fate when we first began.”

“I spoke too soon,” he cracked a small smile of his own. “For a hobbit who has already changed all of our fates I'm willing to amend my previous statements.”

“How generous.” She started to reach for his hand when a yawn started and she covered her mouth instead.

“Go back to sleep,” he said. “We'll talk later.”

 

The next morning, almost a week later, she woke up with a clear head and, yes, she felt so much better today.

Or afternoon.

She rummaged around in the clothes she'd been loaned from the town children and found something suitable before venturing downstairs. The creak of the steps alerted the company. Before she could bother with them asking after her health she held up a hand. “Do we have anything to eat that isn't soup?”

Bombur set to cooking dinner as soon as Bilba came down. She sat at the table, smile on her face, as the company told her about how they were nearly ready to leave for Erebor. “A few more days,” Balin said. “If you're well enough, that is.”

“I'm much better, I promise.” She gave the room a quick look over. “Where are Thorin, Dwalin and Gloin?”

Her question was met with pained groans around the table. She raised an eyebrow.

“Meeting with the Master,” Balin informed her. “As he they have been coerced into doing every day this week.”

“He's a slimy bastard,” Fili said. “I don't like him.” Everyone agreed. “The sooner we leave the better.”

The door swung open to a trio of scowls. Fili flung out his arm to them, as if to show Bilba. At least Thorin's face brightened when he saw Bilba. Gloin threw up his hands, not even noticing her. “I cannot take another day of this.”

Dwalin grunted in response and heaved himself down in a chair.

Thorin sat down beside Bilba. “You're up?”

“Hello to you too,” she said. “Yes, I'm much better.”

He looked her over, and pushed hair out of her eyes and behind her ear. She realized as he brushed it aside it had finally grown enough to tuck back. “Your color is much better.”

“I'm sure Oin's medicine is to thank, awful as it tastes.”

He smirked. “It is truly disgusting.”

Bombur called for a few of them to help him bring out the dinner. While Bilba's appetite wasn't as big as any one wanted it to be, she ate until she was full and made herself comfortable by the fire. She pulled at her hair with her fingers and picked at knots. She made a face. It was probably going to cause some kind of ruckus, but she needed to ask. “I know you all have weird rules about hair, and I don't know any of them, but could someone lend a brush or a comb?”

“Fili or Kili could,” Thorin said from his spot beside her.

“Oh?”

“Here,” Fili said pulling a comb from out of his coat. “It's because you're our sister now. Only family get to share things like this.”

“Yeah,” Kili said and stretched out by the fire. “There's nothing you can do to get rid of us now.”

She smiled. “Thank you,” she said. She wasn't really sure what to say. “I couldn't ask for better brothers.”

“Dwalin and I consider you family too, lass,” Balin said.

“Aye.”

“Us as well,” Gloin said and clapped his brother on the shoulder who hadn't caught a word of what had been going on.

“Hmm?”

“Just say yes, you old bat.”

“Ah, yes?”

Bilba laughed.

“Don't be forgettin' us,” Bofur said. “You're as good as blood to us,” he said swinging an arm around his brother and cousin. Bombur nodded, and Bofur said something in khuzdul to Bifur, who answered back and nodded too.

“Well, you're family here as well,” Dori said.

“Us thieves have to stick together,” Nori said with a wink.

“Of course you're family, Miss Bilba,” Ori smiled.

And she was almost in tears, and she wore a smile so wide it could break her face. “I don't know what to say. Thank you. I'm... I'm lucky to have such a wonderful family.”

“It seems you've been adopted without realizing. It isn't something dwarves do lightly,” Thorin said and took the comb from Bilba's hands. “Allow me.”

As he combed out her knotted curls it gave her the moment she needed to reign in her emotions. She never expected to wind up with a family here. She'd considered them family for a long time now, but she hadn't known it was reciprocated.

Thorin quietly separated her hair. The conversation around them was relaxed. A soft white noise in the background. He tried for complex braids that night.

The fingers in her hair began to lull her to sleep. She would sit there forever if she had the option. She covered her mouth as she yawned. “Tired?” he asked.

“Very relaxed, and maybe a little sleepy. But I'm not ready for bed yet.”

“Braiding always put me to sleep as a kid,” Kili said.

“It puts you to sleep now,” Fili told him.

Thorin finished the end of her braids off and bound them with string. In the back of his mind an idea niggled. Bilba should have beads for her hair, for the braids he wove. She didn't need just ordinary beads one would buy from a merchant. He should make her some once he had the mountain back. Or, he could just give her his own.

That should have been a scary thought, but he meant it.

She yawned again and slumped back into him. “Sorry. I must be more tired than I thought.”

“Let's get you to a bed then.”

He helped her to her feet and up the stairs.

“Don't send Oin up here with more medicine,” she begged at the door. “I can't take any more of that.”

He huffed a small laugh. “I can't make any promises.”

She frowned at him. “Well, uhm, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

 

The sun was high when Bilba woke up. She felt as good as she did the day before this entire journey began, except for that fact she had just been woken up by what sounded like a small army. She contemplated throwing a pillow over her head and trying to wait out the noise, but eventually groaned and sat up.

She came down the stairs to the dwarves splitting up supplies and packing them into new packs.

“Good morning, Miss Bilba,” Ori called.

“Surely it's afternoon. What's all this?” she asked and stepped up next to Thorin who was overlooking the packing.

“We're all ready for our departure,” Balin said.

“We've got all the supplies we need?” she asked, pressing into Thorin's side.

He wrapped his arm around her. “We do.”

And while a dragon hung over their heads, the end was in sight. The mountain would be within reach tomorrow. She bounced on her feet.

The company were excitedly talking and Bilba just stood up on her toes and caught Thorin unawares. She kissed him on the cheek, a simple peck that made him hum and Kili gag. “No, no! My innocent eyes!”

Bilba laughed.

It wasn't Bilba's intention to put on a show, it really wasn't. Mostly, she wanted to make Kili uncomfortable. She kissed Thorin on the mouth as the company turned to see what the boy was fussing about.

And then Dwalin wolf whistled.

And Dori made quite a sharp _ahem_.

And her Baggins side suddenly took hold and she blushed clear to her toes and hid behind a chair.

Gloin broke into a thunderous laugh, and a number of heads hung in shame. “Alright, lads. Pay up!”

“You-you bet on _that_!” Bilba shrieked. She ran off and shut herself in her room in a flurry. Oh, oh! Drat it all. She hadn't meant to do that at all really. She was just _happy_... and a _hobbit_ , after all. That's what hobbits did when they were happy and liked someone. Oh, she went and got carried away. Her head met the wall and she wanted to go home and hide in her bed.

Thorin rubbed his forehead and Gloin smirked as he dropped a hand on his shoulder. “You just gonna let her run off?”

Thorin just grumbled.

“Come on now. You finally got caught, what of it?”

“There was nothing to catch,” he said.

“Right, she just kissed you without warning. No pretense or nothing. Cousin, I am married. I know how this game goes.”

 

Thorin didn't do romantic. He's never done it before, so why should he start now? He was 195 years old and never bothered to court anyone. That isn't to say he'd never known the pleasures another could bring, but he'd never been in love.

This hobbit had thrown a wrench into everything, hadn't she.

Just... kissing him like it were nothing, and it was the world to him.

She had ventured out of her room some time ago, and thankfully the company was too preoccupied with checking supplies and making plans to search the mountain for it's secret door to bother saying anything about the incident. Bilba, who had gotten quite involved in the conversation about the secret door, and was leaning back in her chair with a scowl. She and Gloin were not seeing eye to eye on the matter and it had resulted in a bit of a shouting match. Now she was just refusing to take part in the discussion at all.

“Bilba, may we speak? In private?”

She nodded and he motioned for her to follow him outside. She was just glad to be away from the table. She made sure to fix Gloin with another glare before she left, and he just scoffed and mumbled, “She's more stubborn than my boy.”

They sat on the docks that evening for a moment of peace. Bilba blew smoke rings out over the water, her bad mood slowly melting away. Thorin spent more time looking at her than the mountain, and what did that say. He'd yearned his whole life to be back in the presence of his home, and now all he wanted to do was look at Bilba and memorize the wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes, and the curve of her throat. The exact colors of her. Eyes and lips and skin.

Thorin, forgetting that his thoughts were completely internal, simply blurted out. “Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“After we retake Erebor. You're welcome to stay here, you know.”

She lowered her pipe and watched the water. “I might,” she nodded. “But, I'll have to go back to the Shire someday, I'm sure.”

“You can stay for as long as you want, and will forever be welcome here.” _If you never left, I would be happy._

She nodded and smiled over at him. “I'd be foolish to refuse such an offer.” She looked out to the horizon. “It must be beautiful,” she said quietly. “Fili and Kili have told me a lot of stories, ones you told them when they were younger. Hobbits don't care much for gold and jewels, but we love beauty in it's many forms. And what I know of Erebor is the beauty of the hearts it bore.”

“Careful, burglar, or I'll kiss you in front of the entire town. You'll embarrass yourself so much you might faint.”

She pushed his shoulder. “I didn't mean to get carried away. It was just the moment. Kili looked so scandalized,” she laughed.

“He's spent half his life far too invested in my personal life,” he said and hung his head.

“Why is that?”

“He seems to think, much as my sister does, that it is ridiculous I am unmarried, and unattached.”

Bilba snorted. “Story of my life, Thorin. Only I have a more than a dozen cousins and aunts and uncles hounding me.” She looked over at him. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but, did you ever think you'd be married? Or were you always just meant to go it alone?”

“No, I don't suppose I ever did. May I ask the same?”

“Oh, I fooled around a lot when I was young and I courted one boy, but not exactly because I wanted to. I wanted to make my father happy. And, I don't know, he was a nice boy and he liked me. I just can't say the same for myself. It was actually,” she laughed something that sounded too close to a sob for her own liking. “It was kind of upsetting really. I wanted to liked him back. I wanted to be like every other girl my age. This was nearly 20 years ago now, just as I came of age. I was actually quite depressed after I broke it off. It wasn't my best moment.”

“You shouldn't have forced yourself into something like that.”

“It wasn't as bad as I'm making it sound. Hob was very nice about the whole thing. I told him from the start I didn't think it would work out well, but I'd try anyway. My first and last. I'm not sad about it anymore, of course. It's been a long time.”

 

Like most hobbits, Bilba had several flings with young boys in the Shire. Kisses behind the barns, and tumbles in haystacks. But she never really felt an attachment. Nothing more than friendship.

A few had tried to court her, and she turned them all away, save for one.

She wasn't even sure why she let him in. Why she tried. Maybe she wanted to pretend for a while. Maybe she just wanted to make her father happy. Maybe she wanted to feel normal and ordinary for once.

Hobson Gamgee was five years her senior. He was simple and kind. A roper. Bungo liked him well enough. He wanted better for his daughter, as all fathers did, but Hob was a good boy. He didn't have the same money as a Baggins or a Took, but he had a big heart.

Bilba entertained him, as any proper young lady should, but they both knew it wasn't to be. Hob liked her, wondered if he loved her, but he knew she didn't return that feeling. She smiled and remembered their childhood. She remembered running in the fields with him as a tween, and remembered when he accidentally split her lip. He remembered she blacked his eye for it. They laughed over tea and she thanked him for coming.

“Thank you, Hob. Truely. I'm sorry, you know. I'm just... not made for all this. Not now anyway.” She kissed him on the cheek, leaning against her front gate, something sad settling in her breast. “Don't wait for me, Hob. You'll never forgive yourself for it. And nor will I.”

And the sun set behind her like a halo, and the wind was in her curls. Hob kissed her once, almost like a farewell. “I know, Bilba. And I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

She hugged him tight. “And you know I wish it for you as well.”

He stood back and nodded. “Good evening, Bilba.”

“Good evening, Hob.”

They parted, and she told her father that it wasn't to be. She was finished looking. For in all of Hobbiton, and all the Shire, no one quite completed her. She was not unhappy, she assured him. She was most happy and content here on her own. If ever she wasn't she'd find a way to make herself happy.

Bungo just sighed, and smiled, and said okay.

He probably wouldn't have been so okay had he known that one day Bilba would be looking at a dwarf and thinking maybe him. Maybe he was who she had waited for to complete her. Who commanded her heart and filled her with longing.

Then again, Bungo may have agreed anyway. His daughter deserved a king, dwarvish or otherwise.

And that would certainly show that brother Longo of his a thing or two. He always thought he was so much better than Bungo because he had married a wild Took girl.

But Belladonna Took, oddness aside, was smart as a whip, kind, and loving. Trusting almost to a fault. And, damn respectability, he loved every odd trait of her's. Every bad habit and wild inclination. He loved that she strolled the woods at midnight and danced in the starlight. He loved that she behaved like she could care less what anyone thought. That she was the friend of wizards and elves and all manner of folk. She was a flower among a garden of stones. He loved her great tales. But, most of all, he loved her.

So maybe he'd have shook his head, blanched and muttered to himself that his daughter was positively batty, but maybe he would have smiled at her in private and told her he was happy for her. Happy that she found someone in the wild world she wanted to give her heart to after all these long years.

Looking over at Thorin, as he looked out at the Lonely Mountain, almost made her cry for how dearly she missed her father in that moment. She rubbed her eyes before Thorin looked back at her. The wind picked up and went right through her.

“Let's head back in before you catch another chill.”

 

It was late, long after dinner and conversations and rechecking their packs. Bilba lingered outside of the door of her room that night, fingers sliding across the wall. What kind of silly child was she being, thinking about Thorin like a lovesick tween. She was 51. She heard the creak of the stairs and Thorin coming into the hall. “Bilba,” he nodded.

“Thorin.”

He stopped by her door and neither was sure who moved first, but if you know anything of Tooks, well, you can guess.

It wasn't exactly gentle, the way they fell into the bed and fought for dominance. The way Bilba struggled with Thorin's mail and his trousers, or the way Thorin fumbled with the buttons on her waistcoat. He pushed her hands away to pull off his mail while she was careful with her buttons and shucked off the little yellow vest.

For a moment Thorin wasn't sure if he should throw the key that had hung around his neck for months over his shoulder, of if he should take it off. In the end it fell to the floor and into their clothes.

He ran callused fingers under her shirt, along her sides and buried his head in the crick of her neck.

“This,” she tried very hard not to sound quite so debauched. “This isn't just going to be some one night thing, is it?”

He slid her shirt up, up, and over her head before he kissed her collarbone. “No, I would very much like for this to last longer.”

She hummed, oh practically purred, as Thorin kissed down her chest.

It was all wild passion and built up tensions. Bilba had to bite her knuckles not to cry out when Thorin's tongue teased her most sensitive parts.

Thorin was made of rock and metal. He was forged in the same fires he smithed in. He was wrought of the mountain. And she was all at once self-conscious and shied away. Middle-aged and soft, a round belly and stretch marks that ran down the curve of her hips. Pale lines that curled with her stomach and rode the inside of her thighs. There was an old scar on her arm where she fell from a tree. She was conscious of the acne on her back from too many days without a proper bath. The grit under her nails. Her dirty feet. Her fingers bore calluses she'd rather they didn't. She had wrinkles and more than a couple strands of gray in her hair, her braided curls.

She was just a hobbit, one who could barely grow weeds, and her only true skills fell in languages and wine.

And he was a king.

He was a king who regretted he could not yet treat her like the miracle she was. The goddess. He regretted that he loved her over his ragged furs spread on a bed that was not his own. That he could not craft for her with fine gems and gold. That his skills lay in blacksmithing and not in the delicate art of jewelry making, for she deserved eloquent slivers of silver in her golden curls and around the peaks of her ears. Rich rings and necklaces and bracelets that she would refuse to wear because she was a hobbit, and they loved the simple beauty of earth over metals and jewels.

He wanted to give her gardens.

He was loud, and course, and altogether too angry and bitter of a man to deserve her kindness and her smiles. There was not an inch of him that lacked a scar, a symbol of his bloody life. He was old and going gray. His back ached in the mornings, and his knees bothered him when it rained.

He was not suited to someone so... beautiful and amazing.

And he was sure he cared for her as much as his kin or any he'd ever known. Oh, he was sure he'd tripped up somewhere and foolhearted or softhearted he fell wholeheartedly in love.

It rose up out of nowhere and consumed him.

He slowly pressed into her until he was cradled in her thighs. She arched her back in a cold, damp house, while goosebumps that were not all from pleasure rose on her arms. And she covered her face so she wouldn't have to turn away.

“What is the matter, âzyungâl?”

“Why are you doing this with me? ...You're... you're a king, Thorin. You're royalty. I'm just some old maid.”

He pulled her hands away from her face and kissed her. His hands slid lovingly over her hips, tracing the delicate maps of her history. “A king without a kingdom. No means, no security. You think too highly of an old dwarf.”

“Thorin,” she gasped as he rocked into her. She nodded silently for him to move faster. Harder. To make her fight back the screams of ecstasy bubbling behind her breast.

“You are my treasure. Ghivashel. Never doubt this.”

“Please,” she begged. “Thorin, I'm-” She turned her face into a pillow and muffled a moan.

She was clenched tight around him when he pulled away and spent himself across her stomach.

He laid carefully beside her, and spoke his hidden language into the soft skin of the crook of her neck. He said every word he feared to translate, and every word he was too scared to yet admit.

“What's that?” she muttered, pressing her lips to his head. “I'm making a rule that you have to translate your dumb language if you use it in bed.”

His voice was a low rumble like thunder in his chest. “It would be bad luck,” he said. “Tomorrow we may face our doom, and I would not burden you with this tonight.”

“I would rather you burden me tonight, than risk never saying it at all.”

He rose up on his elbow and looked at her. “Perhaps I will tell you in the morning.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Perhaps you'll tell me now,” and it was more a demand than a request.

He laughed softly. “You're beautiful.”

“You shouldn't joke about things like that.”

He left a lingering kiss on her head before he eased back down onto his side and pulled her to his chest. “Mizim, you know that I don't joke much.”

“What's that mean?”

“Jewel.”

He could feel the heat of her face against his chest. “I had wanted to wait,” he said, “until I had a kingdom worthy of you before I asked. It would be an honor if you would allow me to court you, Bilba Baggins.”

She tried to curl up, tried to bury herself in his chest and hide. “You don't just ask that of an old spinster. You're a king.”

“You're making this argument a lot today. It is hardly a matter of importance.”

“Hardly a... Thorin!”

“How much convincing will it take to make you say yes?”

She looked up at him and kissed his on the nose, “Perhaps you should ask me in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you all for the nice comments and kudos! You're all wonderful.
> 
> And I'm not sure how long the wait will be for these next chapters. There are between 4 and 5 left. These first 5 I had mostly already written before I started posting anything, but the rest are still kind of just outlines. So please be patient. Thanks :)


	6. Friends from Ravenhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone is particularly happy that the dwarves are going to Erebor.

When he braided her hair that morning he worked slowly, unready to leave bed. Unready to go to Erebor and seek out the hidden door.

He would have to send her down to the lair of a dragon that may yet be alive.

Bilba was sitting up in bed, tucked between his knees, and this time he braided her hair in a specific pattern he had never braided before, but he'd seen it done. It was simple. Two braids were started just above the ears and crossed behind her hair and joined in a knot. He unclasp the beads from his hair and fixed them in her own. When he re-braided his own hair he bound it with twine. “A symbol,” he told her. “I have given away my beads, and all will know we are courting. That I concede myself to you.”

She smiled. “I don't have anything to give you. If we were in the Shire I'd, well, I'd make you dinner, but that would feel inadequate.”

“It would be perfect,” he said. “And you are not expected to give me anything in return. At least not for a quite a while.”

She turned around and kissed him. “Well, I haven't a clue how these dwarven customs go, but I'll cherish these. And as soon as I have a kitchen to use I'll make you that dinner.”

“I look forward to it.”

 

They didn't have much time to themselves that morning. They met with the Master very early and left the town to much fanfare. Near to the docks stood a tall, grim man who spoke to Thorin in a familiar tone. Bilba paused next to them and listened, even though Thorin gave her shoulder a slight push to tell her to move on.

“I will warn you once more not to enter that mountain,” he said in a low tone.

“And I will tell you again that no one shall keep me from my birthright. When the mountain is retaken you stand to profit as much as I, Bard. Trade will rebuild Dale, and you are its heir.”

“You will bring the dragon down on us,” he warned. “You will all die and the lake will burn.”

Thorin ignored him and got into the boat.

“What do you mean?” Bilba asked.

The man frowned. “You're the hobbit they spoke of?”

“Yes. Bilba Baggins,” she said with a nod.

“I am Bard,” he said with a small incline of his head. “I'm captain of the soldiers here.” He looked out past the lake and towards Erebor. “The dragon still lives. I have seen his smoke rising from the mountain. If you care for your companions, then I implore you, convince them not to enter the mountain. Like most of this town, they only wish to see the good in the prophecy and not the dark.”

“The dark?”

“The lake will burn before Smaug is dead.” He looked down at her, his face somber.

“Bilba,” Thorin called. “It is time to leave.”

She nodded absently and started away, still looking back at Bard.

“Do not enter Erebor.”

Thorin took her by the arm and helped her into the boat, but sent a glare back at the man.

 

The moment they left the dock Bilba's stomach dropped and Bard's words were forgotten. She hated the water. True, being in a boat wasn't as bad as riding a barrel, but she hated being out in the open water. A river she could manage, but out on the Long Lake... This was just completely senseless. They could have easily gone around. She planted herself dead center of the boat and refused to move.

“So,” Kili sidled up to her. “You and Uncle?”

“Yes, me and your uncle,” she said. She knew this was coming.

Bofur leaned back to inspect her hair. “He did a nice job,” he said before he looked towards Thorin, who was at the head of the boat talking with Balin and Dwalin. “I get to question him though.”

“What?” she looked at him. “About what?”

“His intentions, naturally,” he crossed his arms. “You're family, and that's what family does. We make sure you're not getting into any kind of trouble.”

Kili pretended to look taken aback.

Gloin leaned back with a smirk and folded his hands behind his head. “If anyone gets to speak for the lass it should be me. I'm the only one out of you lot who has ever had a successful courtship 'cept for Bifur.”

“Yes, and if I have to hear another story about Gamil or your courtship I will throw you into the lake,” Oin said sharply, and pointed at the water. “If anything drove me deaf it was that.”

“Pah!” Gloin elbowed his brother.

Bifur signed a few things and Bofur laughed. “Bifur says he'd be happy to speak for you, Bilba, only the speaking part might be a problem.”

“She's my sister!” Fili objected. “I get a say, you know.”

Bilba rolled her eyes. “We're both adults. This is silly,” but no one listened to her.

“It's improper,” Dori said. “Courting so soon. You hardly know one another.”

“You're only saying that because you're mad about Ori,” Kili said.

“Ori should be lucky I didn't leave him in the town. And Dwalin should be glad to have his life,” he said much too loudly while glaring up at the dwarf. Ori winced where he sat in the back of the boat.

Bilba looked between Kili and Bofur. “I take it Dori found out?” Bilba whispered to Bofur.

“Oh, there was a huge row the first night we got to the lake,” Bofur said. “I'm surprised it never woke you up.”

“Are they courting?” Bilba whispered again, not quite sure why she felt the need to. Perhaps she was just scared of the rage slowly boiling in Dori's eyes.

Bofur shook his head. “Not yet. I reckon they will though.”

“Over my dead body!” Dori snapped.

Nori had taken hold of Dori's shoulder and forced him to sit down. “You're going to get someone knocked into the lake.”

“If you don't let go of me I will knock _you_ into the lake,” he hissed, but did settle back down.

Dwalin was surprisingly calm about the situation. He looked at Dori with a smirk before giving Ori a horrendously lewd wink that had the older dwarf turning purple. Nori didn't look much better. “Poison is a better option, brother,” he whispered.

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled something, and Balin was hanging his head in shame.

“I think we should talk about something else,” Bilba said.

“Fine,” Kili said. “You're going to explain what happened with my uncle.”

“There's nothing to explain.”

“Leave her alone, Kili,” Thorin said from the front of the boat.

“Oh, come on,” he whined. “You know if Mom was here Bilba would be getting questions about everything, even down to the mysterious knocking sound last night.”

Bilba wanted to die.

 

They tied the boat to the shore and loaded up on their packs.

The dwarves took one look at the lands around the mountain and frowned. Bilba, on the other hand, didn't so much. There among the charred remains of trees and the bare soil she nodded. “It's better than I was expecting,” she said with hope in her voice.

Dwalin called her crazy, but Balin stepped up beside her. “How so?”

“I was expecting the land to be beyond repair, or at least something that would take a lot of work to fix... and it will, but it's healing. I'm no gardener, but look here,” she crouched down and touched what looked to them to be a little weed just barely sprouting. “A bit of life. Where there's life there's hope, my father always said. Once we know the dragon is gone all it'll take is a bit of love. This land will be green again.”

Ori crouched down across from her to look at it. “It's awfully small.”

“All things are when they start off. Even the mountains began as hills.” She stood up and looked around. “I'm not familiar with the plants that grow here, but I think that's going to be a tree.”

Balin smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Where there's life there's hope. That's a good saying. Yes, I believe that might be a good motto for a new Erebor.”

“We've got to retake her first,” Dwalin said.

“That we must,” Thorin said, “But there is nothing wrong with a little hope in this desolation.”

The closer they got to the mountain they saw several gaunt, black crows watching them from the remnants of the charred trees. “They have an ill look about them,” Oin said. “I don't like them. They're ominous. Birds like that, they're spies of evil.”

Occasionally one would let out a shrill cry as they passed. Kili was tempted to shoot a few with his bow, but Gloin put a hand hand on his arm to stop him. “Bad luck, lad. We don't need any of that here.”

The sky grew darker as they came up to Erebor. If not for the bone dry air, Bilba would have sworn it was going to rain. Despite how heavy the clouds looked she knew not a drop would fall. She wasn't sure if she was glad of that or not.

They camped at the base of the mountain. No one mentioned it when Thorin set his sleeping roll down beside Bilba's, though Kili may have snickered.

After most of the company had fallen asleep Thorin was still awake, sitting by Bilba's sleeping side. They would have two days to scout and find the door. Thorin worried it would not be enough. His eyes searched the stone late into the night.

“If you don't sleep it'll be harder tomorrow,” Balin said.

He nodded quietly, but didn't look away. “It's almost strange to be back,” he said. “Can you remember it, Balin? Would we get lost or would we recall the halls as we did as boys?” There was something light in his voice. Something happy.

“It's been a long time. We might get lost, but we'll find our way. I remember tracking you, Dwalin, and Frerin down well enough. You three were always getting into trouble.”

He sighed. “I wish he could have seen it again.”

“So do I.”

Thorin looked over his shoulder where his nephews slept. “They remind me of him everyday.”

Balin huffed a small laugh. “Those two were never as bad as you and your brother.”

He smiled. “True enough, but at least I never set my brother on fire.”

“That was one time!” Fili shot from under his blanket.

“It was twice. Go to sleep,” Thorin said softly.

“It was an accident,” he said to anyone who was listening. Balin just laughed at him.

Thorin looked at Bilba as she shivered. He pulled her blanket higher over her shoulders.

“I did wonder how long it would take,” Balin said.

“You're as bad as Kili.”

“All your life you've never let anyone get close to your heart, and now you let her in. I wonder if Oin was right.”

“About what?”

“Portents.”

Thorin shook his head. “Portents must be taken with a grain of salt.”

“I agree, but you smile more easily these days, and it's not just because of the mountain. What happened in the dungeons? Something changed between you two.”

And he didn't speak for a minute. He started going backwards trying to pinpoint one moment, but there wasn't one. There were times before Mirkwood and the dungeons. Everything had built up. It had built up since Azog, or even before, and Balin seemed to understand that.

“The turning point, lad.” The tipping point. When had she become that rock he tied himself to. And he did know.

He'd spent those weeks in that dark cell knowing that his company was alive. His family and friends were captured, but safe. Except for Bilba. She was lost somewhere in those woods. She was somewhere dark and cold, and full of spiders and horrors he could not dream of. She was alone. He spent a long time fearing she was dead. When he saw her face he thought he'd seen a ghost. He was scared that his nightmares were now haunting his waking hours.

But she was real.

“I failed this company in Mirkwood, and I failed us in Thranduil's kingdom,” he said. “She was dead on her feet, but she still smiled and promised she would get us free. I believed her. I doubt I would have believed anyone else who made those promises.” He looked down at her and her calm face. He hoped her dreams would be easy tonight. “She gave me hope when I had none left. I could not let myself fail her, not when she'd done so much for me. Not after she'd come back again. When I could help no one else I was able to help her, even if it was in small ways. She needed comfort and I could give that. I wanted to, and I keep wanting to.”

“That's love,” he said.

Thorin nodded. It was. “She is infuriatingly reckless and stubborn sometimes.”

“And so are you,” Balin noted.

“I don't think I'd change it for anything.”

 

They fanned out early the next morning, each wandering alone along the western side of the mountain. Some time near to noon Bilba had stopped and was staring up at a section of rocks, following them up and down the mountain side. She had taken Thorin's map and occasionally looked down at it, and then back to the mountain as if she could actually find any answers to her questions on the paper. There were none, and she cursed dwarves, not for the first time, for their secretiveness.

Nori noticed her staring as he passed. “What is it?”

She made a face. “Do those rocks look a little too well placed? Almost like they're meant to be climbed, not just that they could be...” She cocked her head and looked at the map again and, surprisingly, continued to find no answers. “It's not like it looks easy to climb. I could just be seeing things.”

“I don't see it," he said and followed her gaze.

He was about ten feet away, on a slightly higher patch of ground. Bilba walked over to where he stood and looked. “No, see, you can't see it here... Come here. Look,” she pointed into the rocks. “They almost perfectly stagger if you look from just this spot. Kind of like...”

“Stairs,” he said. And standing a bit taller then her he could just see what looked like a ledge. “Excellent work,” he congratulated. “Oi!” he shouted with his hands cupped over his mouth. “I think Bilba's found something!”

 

Bombur refused to climb the mountain. “I'll fall,” he complained.

“You're going up,” Bofur said and pushed him forward.

“It's too steep.”

“If the rest of us can do it, so can you,” Bofur said and shoved him again.

Thorin and Dwalin had already made it to the top, with Nori close behind, and Bilba not far behind him. She ground her teeth the entire way. She was never particularly afraid of heights, but being on the side of a cliff was a lot different than being in a tree. Dori was behind her though and kept promising he wouldn't let her fall.

At the top was a ledge large enough to hold all of them, and no sign of a door. Balin assured her that there wouldn't be any signs. It felt right though. Why else would there be a perfect ledge, or a staircase, as vague as it was. She only nodded. It had looked secret enough. She settled down and watched as the rest of the dwarves came up. Bombur's complaints could be heard all the way from the bottom.

“If you don't stop whining we'll tie a rope to you and haul you up,” Dwalin shouted down. Bombur answered with something quite rude indeed.

Bilba climbed up on a large rock and sat high above the rest of them. Eventually, once Bombur and Bofur had made it up, they realized there really wasn't a point to having climbed up. Durin's Day wasn't until tomorrow.

They weren't sure what to do with themselves for the rest of the time. They sharpened their blades, and had dinner, and talked about treasure and gold and what they would do with their shares. Bilba ignored most of the conversation.

She'd thought of the gold, of course, but never of what to do with it all. Instead she focused on what was more pressing. Tomorrow she would have to gather her courage and enter the mountain. She had no idea how she should go about it. She didn't even know where the tunnel would end up. She may have to wander around lost until she actually found the treasury. She wasn't sure what to do if she were caught. Maybe the dragon was dead. Maybe that Bard fellow was wrong, though something in her bones knew she'd find Smaug down there.

No part of her wanted to listen to Bard's warnings though. She wanted to go into the mountain. Not just because it was her job. She had promised. She promised them she would bring them home and she wasn't about to give up right at the end.

She sat up on that rock up above all the dwarves, elbows on her knees, and head on her fists. Every so often she would sigh, sometimes quite softly but other times as heavy as a stone. If she were honest she was quite frustrated thinking about everything. She did not particularly want to find a dragon, and she did not think stealing from it would be wise. It wasn't as if she had any idea of how to get rid of the dragon. They may have made it to the mountain, but it wouldn't be theirs until Smaug was gone. They would have to kill him some way or other, and that seemed completely insurmountable. Maybe they could poison it? Could one poison a dragon?

If anyone looked up and asked what she was doing she would sigh again. “I am sitting and thinking, which is my job along with getting into the mountain and playing at being a burglar.”

Dwalin frowned. He was tired of waiting. It was turning to night and they'd sat on this ledge for several hours already, and had another day to wait. “Bilba has that ring. Maybe she should go in the front gate and spy things out.”

She looked down and glared at him. “I have put myself into enough danger for you all, if you've forgotten, and I still must go and burgle a dragon. It is not my job to do everything,” she said irritably. “It is Durin's Day tomorrow, and so you will just have to wait. If we cannot get in here, then we will see about my going through the front gates.”

“It was mostly a joke,” he admitted. He at least had the decency to look a bit ashamed.

“Mostly,” she scoffed.

“I wouldn't have sent you in the front alone.”

“What? You'd go in as my bodyguard?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She sighed, but gave him a fond look. “I appreciate the sentiment, but this is to be my job. I was brought with the intention that the dragon not realize he had dwarves coming for him. He doesn't need to know you're here.”

Dwalin just groaned with boredom.

“Well, we have time to kill. Anyone have any stories?” Balin asked.

Gloin perked up. “Oh, I've got-”

Oin cut him off. “No one wants to here another story about your wife or your son. Mahal knows I love the boy, but he can be denser than rock.”

Bofur looked up where Bilba was perched. “Our lass is a excellent storyteller.”

Kili agreed. “You can tell them the fairy story,” he said.

She shook her head. “You've heard that one already.”

“We've got plenty of time to fill,” Ori said. “I'd like to hear more of your stories.”

“Yes, but I have others. If you'd all like to hear anyway.”

“Go ahead.” They all agreed.

“Okay,” she said and rolled a few ideas around in her head. “I haven't told any stories of my mother yet, have I?” she asked mostly to herself. “She had her own adventures when she was young, but by far her best was her adventure to Rivendell.”

“Not an elf story,” Dwalin complained.

“It doesn't focus on them,” she said. “And besides, you'll like it. My mother succeeded where they couldn't.”

Thorin started a crack a bit of a smile. “If your mother can outsmart elves then I think I may like this story.”

“Okay. Well, first I should start with one of her sayings, I suppose. It's a dangerous business, Bilba, going out your door,” she quoted. “You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to. There are great adventures out there. There are wizards and elves in faraway places. The Shire may seem big, she would always tell me, but is it only a very small piece of a very big world.”

“What was her name?” Ori asked.

“Belladonna.”

“That's familiar,” Nori said. “What's that?”

“It's poison,” Oin said.

Bilba nodded. “Yes, that's a Took family for you. Many of her brothers were named for warriors, and she was named for a poisonous plant.”

“What were you named for then?” Fili asked.

She waved her hand around. “That is a different story, and a boring one. Anyway, Gandalf showed up at her door one day and fascinated her with stories of the world until she was begging to leave with him on a journey. That had been his plan all along though. After my uncle Hildifons never came back my grandmother forbid Gandalf to ask any of her children to leave. He thought it was a cleaver loophole, and so did my grandda,” she laughed. “First they traveled into Bree with a ranger as an escort. A great, big, quiet man. They parted ways in the city and on they traveled. The second night after, that's when they heard it. The howls of wolves. My mother had nothing to protect herself with, save for her walking stick. 'If a wolf did attack,' Gandalf told her, 'That stick would do nothing but make it angry,'” Bilba said in her best Gandalf impression.

“Did the wolves come?” Kili asked.

“Three nights later, when my mother was half asleep at their camp, four great, gray wolves came for them. One grabbed my mother's skirts and tore them as she screamed at them to get away, but with one shout of a spell, flash!” She spread her arms wide and made a bursting motion with her hands. “Gandalf blew them all away! They made it the rest of the way to Rivendell without any more incidents, and that is when Gandalf finally revealed to her the true reason for their journey.

“There was a very sick human woman that even Elvish magic could not save. She was very important, my mother said, not for her own deeds, but a descendant of her's would someday bring peace to the world. Even Gandalf would not explain the details to her. With elves, though, some have the gift of foresight and can see the future in some fashion. That is how they found the woman, ill and wandering in the north. They brought her to Rivendell to be saved. There was but one hope for her in all the world. A magic flower. But none of the elves were able to make it grow. Hobbits though, we are particularly skilled in growing things. My mother promised she would do everything in her power to save the woman. But growing is a slow process, and she didn't have much time. Magic could speed it up, but only the hands of someone who knew the earth could plant the seed and care for it properly.”

“Did it grow?” Ori asked.

“For many days they all worried. It would not grow in the elvish gardens. They had only two seeds left to try. One was planted high, high up on a rooftop terrace.” Bilba raised her hand. “And the other my mother took out of the valley to grow in a place not touched by the elves. But it was dangerous. Not only for the wolves, but the wargs could come as well. Everyday she went to each plant, talked the them and told them of her promise to save the sick woman. But the flower in the city would not grow, though it tried its best. It sprouted and withered. Out of the valley, the flower struggled to even sprout. For days she went and prayed to the Green Lady for help.”

“The Green Lady?” Bofur asked.

“The Mother,” Bilba smiled. “Yavanna. Her prayers were answered. Over the next three days the seed took hold in the soil and sprung up like a weed. It was a massive golden flower that seemed to glow with a light all its own. She picked it and ran all the way back to healers in the city who, astonished by the size the flower had grown, quickly made up a potion. You see it was only meant to be a small flower, but it was nearly the size of my mother's head.”

“The woman? Did she live?”

“It took a while for her to heal, but yes. Color returned to her, and she woke up. Every day she grew in strength until finally she was taken home to the north. What happened after, I don't know. I only can assume she's well out there.”

Kili smiled. “I'm glad it worked. Your mother must be amazing.”

“She was.”

“Oh,” Kili said, suddenly regretting himself. “She's? I'm sorry.”

Bilba just smiled. “It's okay. She died many years ago. Don't let that put a damper on things. She wouldn't want that. She was always cheerful.”

“Well, then” Bofur said and raised his glass, though it only contained water. “To Belladonna Baggins.”

 

That night it was Bilba who sat up late as Thorin slept at her side, but instead of staring at the mountain she stared out into the forest. She tried to find strength in her mother's memory. She could do this, couldn't she? She had come so far, of course she could do this. And if her mother was alive to know, Bilba was sure she'd have been proud. Even her father, though he would have sputtered and turned red, probably would have been secretly proud. She could to cling to that thought to find her courage.

She would enter the mountain. It was just... She wasn't even sure what she was worried about, besides the glaringly obvious. The warnings of the lake man came back to her mind, but they were not the only worries to haunt her. She just couldn't pinpoint what it was.

“You, more than anyone, should be sleeping,” Thorin said in a quiet, sleep rough voice. “Lie down.”

She shifted down and let herself be pulled into his arms. “I can't sleep.”

“I understand.” His breath was hot on the back of her neck. “I won't say, 'do not worry,' because right now you should. It would be foolish not to. But if there is anything I can do to ease your mind, even in the slightest, tell me and I will do it.”

She pulled his arm tighter around her. “Make me a promise,” she said quietly. “If anything goes wrong for me, keep everyone else safe. And when everything is said and done, and you're king, go to the Shire and see my cousin, the Thain. Tell him what happened, and tell him I promised to make you dinner. He'll know... He'll know what to do.”

“You are not going to die,” he said. “Don't speak that way.”

“If,” she said. “I said _if_. I have no plans on dying, thank you. Now, make me a promise.”

He frowned. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

“That isn't what I said.”

He pressed his head to her shoulder. “I refuse to promise that, because you won't die. Now please, go to sleep, and stop making my life difficult.”

She huffed. “Excuse me for making your life so hard. I hadn't realized.”

“I will go to the Shire, and speak to your cousin,” he said. “But, above all else, I would rather it not come to that.”

 

The clouds were still heavy and dark in the morning, not that Bilba had much of a chance to see them before she was given a heart attack. She was mid-yawn when a raven came down and landed on her head, getting tangled in her hair and squawking like it was being murdered.

“Ow, ow! Get it off!” She flailed her arms and half of the company jumped up to see what the matter was, while the other half were jolted awake by her screaming.

“Calm down!” Thorin said and started pulling the bird from her hair. “Hold still!”

Once the raven was free it fled up Thorin's shoulder as far as he could get from Bilba. He was very panicked and flustered with his feathers in disarray. “Oh, dear. My people saw you coming to the mountain. I was only sent to see what was happening.”

“And that involves landing in people's hair, does it!” Bilba snapped and made a grabbing motion towards him.

“I'm sorry,” he cawed sadly.

“You speak?” Thorin said. “What is your name?”

“Coräc, sir. If you would please call off your angry dwarrowdam I would be most thankful, sir,” the bird said, and tried to hop behind Thorin's head.

“I am not a dwarf!”

“My apologies,” he cawed.

Thorin held up a hand to Bilba and gave the bird an amused look. “It has been a long time since I spoke with a raven. Coräc, you say you are called?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wonder if you knew Carc. I knew him as the leader of your people.”

“He was my grandfather. He passed away many years ago. My father, Roäc, rules our people now. He has spoken most well of dwarrows,” he said.

Bilba spent her time glaring daggers at the bird and trying her best to fix her hair.

“You came to investigate. Explain.”

“Ye-yes, sir. We saw your arrival this morning as we flew over. My father wondered if you were dwarrows come to enter the mountain. And now I know, so I should be off.” Though his haste was mostly to do with the death stare Bilba was still giving him.

“Ask your father to come. I would like to speak with him, if he will.”

“Yes, sir. I will ask.” He took his was a small bow, or as best could be done by a raven, and flew away.

Bilba frowned after him. “Dratted bird.”

“Don't speak so ill of him,” Balin said. “He looks like just a young thing, barely out of his nest. He probably didn't know better.”

“Does my head look like a proper place to land?” She wasn't given an answer and promptly stormed off. She stopped next to Fili to ask to borrow his brush again before continuing on, muttering to herself the insufferable natures of birds and certain dwarves.

Thorin watched the horizon. “Do the think the old alliances will still stand,” he asked Balin.

“Should do,” he said. “It's been a long time, but they haven't forgotten us. We will see what this Roäc has to say.”

Dwalin sat near Bilba and looked just as annoyed with the bird as she did. “I hate birds,” he muttered.

Balin just snorted. “Just because you were a foolish boy who couldn't close his mouth, now you hate all birds.”

“The bugger shat in my mouth!”

Bilba nearly choked, as she brushed out her hair.

“You were throwing rocks at them,” Balin defended.

 

Roäc came in the evening with his son in tow. He landed on a rock by Thorin while Coräc landed as far from Bilba as he could. Roäc laughed at his son. “I apologize for him,” he said. “He has little experience with people. He did not mean to upset you.”

Bilba nodded with a sigh. “All is forgiven.” She made sure to try and smile at the young raven, but he was still quite flustered and couldn't look at her. He did come a little closer though.

The older raven was long winded in his introductions, but was happy to see them. “I will never forget my father's words to me. Our people remember the kings of old, and while many of my folk are abroad now, we recognize the king's return. Word is already spreading south to them. But I also come with a warning to you, Prince Thorin. Beware the dragon. He has hunted dwarrows since your fall, and will not hesitate to come for you if he knows you are here.”

“We know,” Bilba said. “That's why I'm here.”

“With all respect, you do not look much like a dragon-slayer, madam.”

She nodded. “I'm a burglar.”

Roäc hopped closer to her. “A burglar you may be, but a dragon-slayer is needed in these parts. Smaug still lives.”

The dwarves all turned worried looks to her, but she held her chin high. “All the same, I am the one who is going into the mountain, not the dwarves.”

Coräc had inched all the way up to her side by now and looked up at her. “You are very brave, ma'am.”

Roäc gave her an appraising nod. “Then take all the care you can, madam.”

“Roäc, do you know if this is the secret entrance to the mountain?” Balin asked.

The bird shook his head. “That, I do not know. I was born after the fall of Erebor and know little of the mountain itself. But if it comforts you the thrushes may know. I can seek council with them, if you would like.”

Thorin shook his head. “Durin's Day is today. If this is the entrance then we will know in a few hours time.”

“I would very much like to stay to witness such an occasion,” Roäc said.

Bilba offered her hand to the younger raven who took a hesitant few steps before resting in her palm. “I apologize for shouting at you this morning. You frightened me when you landed on me.”

“I did not mean to scared you, ma'am.”

“Bilba,” she said.

“Miss Bilba,” he corrected. “May I ask a question, if it is not too terribly rude of me?”

“I supposed so.”

“What are you, if not a dwarrow like your companions?”

She smiled. “I'm a hobbit. Not many people know of us, especially so far to the east. Some call us halflings or Shire folk.”

“I've never heard of a hobbit before.”

She smiled and stroked his feathers. “Well, I've never met a talking raven.”

 

The dwarves were antsy until the sun began to set. Bofur played a few tunes on his flute, trying to ease the mood. Ori sketched Coräc sitting on Bilba's shoulder, trying to keep his nervous hands busy. The rest mostly tried to talk about anything but dragons.

As the sun began to vanish behind the trees they worried and watched the stone wall. Bilba's heart was in her throat as she watched the sky, and Thorin's grip on her hand was almost crushing as he watched the mountain.

What if they had been wrong? What if this wasn't the secret door after all?

When the sun was lost, and the moon was peaking through the clouds, Thorin's hand grew weak. “Bre-” his voice nearly failed him. “Break it down!” But their axes shattered, and their hammers fell apart.

Thorin tried to sink to the ground, but Bilba clung to his arm. “No. Don't you dare give up. Just wait. There's still time. Just wait,” she whispered.

Balin shook his head. “We've lost the light.”

The sun only came in brief shimmers through the trees in the distance. Bilba's jaw clenched. _Come on. Please._ She begged to whoever would listen. She played to the Mother, she called to her husband, Aulë. She called to all of them.

“What did we miss?”

It was so broken Bilba wanted to cry for Thorin. He dropped her hand to open his map. Bilba started to reach out for him when just above them she caught sight of another bird coming to land on the rock that had been her perch the day before. He had a snail in his beak and was dashing it against the rocks.

“The last light of Durin's Day shall-” Thorin said in the same defeated tone, but Bilba cut him off.

“Hush. Thorin, hush. Listen.” She pointed up at the little bird. A thrush tapping on the rock. Knocking.

The last glimmer of light passed through the trees, and a beam of moonlight came through the clouds. Together they shone on the stone. Bilba swallowed hard. Thorin was trembling.

“The key,” she said quietly, giving Thorin's arm a gentle push. He fumbled for it under his shirt and approached the mountainside. He took a deep breath before he put it in the illuminated keyhole and turned. There was a small click and every heart of the company stood still as Thorin pushed and the stone wall gave way.

As the dwarves hugged their brothers, and Thorin held his nephews, Bilba stood back and smiled, wiping tears from her eyes.

They were home.


	7. Through the Fire and the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug was not the first monster she had spoken to in the dark. But where small things in goblin caves could be distracted by riddles, dragons took a bit more cunning, a bit more lying, and a few fairy tales.

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking for?”

“The Arkenstone. It is a large, white jewel,” Balin said.

She nodded and teetered at the edge of the door.

Balin made a tight noise and patted her on the shoulder. “It... you'll know it when you see it, lass.”

She looked at him. “What?”

“There's no shame in not going down there. We'll all understand,” he said.

She smiled but shook her head. “Thank you, but I'm going.”

“He's right, we will not fault you,” Thorin said.

“Don't worry. I've known I would be doing this since the morning I ran out of my door.”

“Be careful you don't waken him,” Fili warned. “And if he's already awake you come right back.”

“I'm not dumb enough to stick around if Smaug is awake.” Fili and Kili both looked like frightened boys to her right now. And they were. They were barely grown. And they were her brothers. “Come here,” she said and wrapped an arm around each of them. “I'll be okay. I've survived this far.” She turned and looked into the tunnel. “So, in I go then?”

They fidgeted, and many stepped towards her intending to follow at least into the tunnel. Thorin would have dared go to the mouth of Smaug's lair, but even he wasn't stupid enough to be seen.

She sighed. “No, you're all staying. I said I would do this, so I expect you all to let me go and do my best.” She squared her shoulders, gave her head good shake to clear her thoughts and strode into the darkness.

Coräc nervously flapped his wings. “I-I... Oh, dear. Miss Bilba shouldn't do this. Not alone.”

Thorin was already going after her, and in the darkness he caught her by the sleeve. Though she couldn't see him she knew who it was.

“Don't follow me, Thorin. I'll be alright.”

He nodded and reached out to touch her face. “I will hold you to that. Swear to me you will come back.”

“I told you already, I have no intentions of dying. I'll be back.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. “Be safe, mizim.” _Come back to me as you always have_.

She gave him a pat on the cheek. “Whenever am I not?”

 

Coräc was hopping from side to side, his feathers ruffled. Roäc was staring at him. His son had always been a fidgety boy. “Dear me, I'm going as well.” He hopped up and flew into the tunnel entrance.

Roäc made a shrill noise that died before it reached down to his son. The dwarves bit their tongues. They didn't want shouting to echo down, but they still growled and stamped their feet.

“Stupid boy,” Roäc said. “He's scared of large rats, and he thinks he's going to go down to a dragon. He'll be back before he's gone halfway down, mark my words. No need to fret, gentlemen. Your burglar won't be found out because of my foolish son.”

As Bilba continued on, it wasn't so dark. It was steadily growing redder and redder. Lighter and lighter.

She didn't shake which surprised her. She supposed over these last months all the fear she had of this moment had slowly drained out of her. Still, she waited at the bottom just within the shadow of the tunnel. She heard the rustle of wings coming up from behind and then settling on her shoulder. “Go back,” she whispered. “I will be safer if I am alone. The dragon will see you before he sees me.”

“But ma'am,” he started.

“Just trust me. It's... it's hobbit magic.”

He was uneasy and let himself land on the stone floor, but did not turn back. “I will stay here, ma'am, to watch. If you are captured or worse someone must warn your friends.”

“If I'm captured they won't be able to do anything to help.” When she tried to shoo him he refused to budge.

Bilba took a deep breath and poked her head out of the end of the tunnel and found herself awed. She had been told a hundred stories of dragon hoards and golden mountains. They had often been her favorites as a child. Some were her grandfather's tales, some were her grandmother's, but many came from her father. Bungo had a great library and read her to sleep with fantastic legends and histories. But in all their tellings, in all their magical words, they never told her anything that could compare to the sight of a real treasure trove. She crouched down and picked up the closest thing to her. It was a large, golden chalice full of coins. It glittered with gems and was carved with images of birds and flowers.

She poured all but one of the small golden coins out of the cup and handed the last one to Coräc. “Take it up and tell them about the treasure. Don't come back.”

The raven looked torn but did as she said and flew back up the tunnel.

Bilba turned back to the trove and ventured a step in. And then another. Her breathes were quiet and deep as she slowly made her way into the chamber. Occasionally something would tumble and slide down the hills of gold as she walked. She would cringe and bring her hands up to her head as if the dragon would suddenly appear and grab at her.

“Arkenstone,” muttered to herself as she climbed up a particularly high mound of gold. “It'll take me years to find it.”

She paused at the top to look around, and her head whipped to the side as she heard the jingle of coins falling. All breath left her and she very slowly crouched down.

Smaug stretched on top of a pile of treasure, purring almost like a large cat, and started to wake. Bilba's hands fiddled about in her pockets as she found her little ring. If ever there was a time or place to use it, it was here. She let herself gaze into the room for a moment longer as Smaug lifted his head. She vanished from the world and took a cautious step away.

Dragons have a keen sense of smell, and even in his dreams he caught a whiff of fresh air and something altogether unfamiliar. It disturbed him and it pulled him from his sleep.

He rose up and Bilba fell back. She was full of a mixture of awe and terror at his size. A massive, red beast.

His voice was like distant thunder.

“Well,” he rumbled and looked around the room. “It has been a long time since I have had a thief. I smell you, I hear you... where are you?” On surprisingly light feet he began to pace around the room and Bilba darted underneath him and ran to hide against a pillar. “Show yourself,” he said just above a whisper. Something in his voice echoed in her head. “Show yourself. No need to be shy,” he crooned. “There is plenty of treasure.”

“No,” she squeaked. “No, thank you, Smaug the... the Magnificent.” She even made a show of bowing that the dragon could not see. He laughed regardless. “I have not come to steal from you. I have only come to look upon your splendor.”

He hummed and narrowed in on her voice. She silently moved around the vast room, but no where she could go would she feel she was far enough from him. “Come now, let me see you. Don't be shy. Come into the light.” And it echoed. It beat against the walls of her skull. She fought to keep her hands at her sides. She fought not to remove her ring and show herself. Why was she so tempted?

In all the tales she was told as a girl, in all the books she'd read, she never quite learned that dragons were more than teeth and claws and fire. No, they were much more.

Dragons are dangerous. Not just for their power and the inferno in their throats. Dragon speech is dark. It is shadow and chaos, and it haunts the mind. It twists and bends and breaks. It captures. It spins webs around the heart and takes it for its own. The way Smaug moved side to side, the ringing of his voice... It was a kind of magic. A dragon spell.

Dragons can make you do just about anything, make you believe just about everything, if they say it in just the right tone.

“You intrigue me, little thief. You are not a Man, nor an elf. I have eaten enough in my time to know that you could not be them. Nor are you a dwarf, but you have the same earthy smell. You do not need to be afraid of me,” he said and gave a toothy grin. “It would be better for you if you were not.” He leaned down closer and closer until he was only a few feet from her. “I can smell it on you.” He pulled back for a moment and chuckled. “There is something dark about you. Something old. I confess, it draws me much more strongly than your scent, thief.” He leaned back down, “Now, let me see you.”

As he spoke Bilba felt herself grabbing at her ring. She twisted it, but kept it on.

“Tell me, who are you? You seem to know me. It only seems fair.” As he spoke she shook her head and unconsciously tore her ring off. “There you are. What a small thing you are.”

She felt as if her heart would beat clear out of her chest.

She instantly found her hand drawing her little sword and the dragon laughed at her. “Have you come to stick me with a sowing needle?” he mocked.

Bilba kept her jaw stiff and slowly backed away, feet slipping occasionally on gold.

“What a funny little thing,” he said. He swiped at her with one clawed foot, but not close enough to grab or hurt her, though he could have. It was just to scare her. “Now, who are you? What are you?”

“I...” She was scared blank. Even the idea that she was a hobbit wouldn't come to mind.

“Come now.” His breath was hot as steam.

She gripped her sword tight in her hands started backing away again. “St-Sting! They call me the Stinging Fly. A-and the Lucky Number. The One Who Walks Unseen.”

“Lovely titles. The last is quite interesting.”

He walked one way, and then the next, just inspecting her. For what reason, she did not know. It was completely unnerving. And her panic was rising with each step.

Her hands started shaking, her blade loose in her palms. She knew better. She knew to keep her sword tight in her hands, but she couldn't do it. Her whole body felt weak and it took everything in her not to show it.

Smaug tilted his head right and left as he circled her, altogether like a snake, and all the while Bilba was backing away.

“What's your name, Stinging Fly?”

“I've been called the Web Cutter,” she said.

“That is a title.”

“My friends call me Underhill.”

The dragon growled then. “Titles and titles! Little creature, you'd do best not to anger a dragon. I will burn you alive until your bones are black.”

“Bilbo! Bilbo Labingi,” she shot out.

The dragon nodded and gave her a toothy grin. “Now we are getting somewhere.”

He blew smoke at her. She waved it off and held out her sword towards him. She flung out occasional blows, warning flashes of steel, but she kept a distance too far to strike.

He was playing with her. She could do nothing to him. He was winding her up.

He stepped forward and she took three back. He turned to one side, and she stepped to the other. It was... it was a dance. She took a shaking breath. They taught her how to dance. She was taught jigs in the Shire, but Thorin taught her to waltz with a sword.

She was learning him, and he didn't seem to notice or care.

He led and she followed.

She wasn't a threat. She was his first game in sixty years. And he was quickly growing bored. He whipped his tale around behind her and she tumbled backwards while he laughed. She panicked and stabbed at his tale, but the sword only bounced off of his scales. That though, that was not so funny to him. He shot out a clawed hand and picked her up, her sword falling into the hills of gold.

He took a good look at her, his first close look. “A woman,” he said. “Not a princess. What a shame. You'd be more valuable if you were a princess. You barely qualify as food.”

No, she was never meant for a sword. That was not her battle.

But she could speak. If she could talk circles around Lobelia, then she could certainly think of something to outwit a dragon.

A waltz of words. It was to be a waltz of words.

She could do that.

If she wanted to live she had better.

She struggled in his grip. “I beg your pardon,” she snapped. _Oh, this was a bad idea._ “When is the last time you even saw a princess of the west? My grandfather was Thain of the Shire. His title may not be king, but I am equivalent to any princess!”

It's not like the dragon would know what a Thain was. She wasn't even sure where this plan was going. But, if she knew one thing from the fairy tales her grandfather had told her, it was that dragons valued princesses as much as they did gold. So maybe he just might not crush her alive just yet.

“Never heard of a Shire, but I never venture west of here. Why are you so far east, Shire Princess?”

“Marriage,” fell out of her mouth. “To a lord east of here.”

“And you enter my mountain to sate curiosity? To look upon my 'splendor,' you say. I don't believe you, _princess_. Where are your guards?” He whipped his tale behind him and sent it through a hill of gold and made a deafening crash.

 _Oh, oh_... “I snuck away! Curiosity is a curse. My family is under a fae curse. You must understand these things, Smaug the Great. What good is a princess without a curse? I never heard of any good one without.” It terms of fairy tales it was true enough.

The dragon seemed to consider this but then held her closer and took a whiff of her. “The only lords east of here are dwarves. Worthless, they are. They have only iron to their names. Is that why I smell dwarf on you? You're not a dwarf. What are you?” His grip tightened ever so slightly and she tried to pull away as it squeezed too tight to draw a deep breath.

“Sh-Shireling. They call us Shirelings.”

When he growled it rattled her bones. “They shall come with swords and spears and I will eat them all. Where are the dwarves!?”

 

The crash of gold was heard as far as the surface. Ori nearly jumped out of his skin. “What was that? An earthquake?”

Balin drew a tight breath. “That, my lad, was a dragon.”

Several of the dwarves were already drawing their weapons and moving to the door when Thorin held up a hand. “Give her more time.”

What? Balin shot him a look. “More time to what? To be killed?”

He took a breath to steady himself. “I am responsible for twelve other lives as well. We give her more time.”

Dwalin shoved past him. “I'll let the lass know the one she chose to give herself to is a coward. And I'll let you know right now, if you act like this again I'll break your nose.”

Thorin grabbed him by the back of the collar. “If you insinuate I'm a coward again, I will break more than your nose. I'm doing this because she told me to. If something goes wrong, I keep the rest of this company out of danger.”

“And you're just going to listen to everything she says even if it gets her killed? Is she in charge now? I signed up for some danger. Come on, lads!”

 

Bilba coughed. “I can't breathe.” She beat against his hand but he didn't loosen his grip. “In the town. I left them behind. They would never let me go otherwise.”

Satisfied, he loosen his grip marginally. Nothing riled him up quite like dwarves.

“Why is it you have come then, princess, if not to steal? I don't believe your tripe. Are you spying for them?” He tightened his grip again, this time even more so. “Is that why they sent you, One Who Walks Unseen?”

This was all a mistake. She couldn't outwit a dragon. She wasn't a burglar.

She wasn't a Took.

“Truely, I do not lie, oh Smaug the Mighty and Tremendous,” her voice shook and cracked. She had tears in her eyes. “I have only come to see if the old tales were true.” This was it. She was going to die. “I wanted to know if you were as spectacular as the stories and songs said. I did not believe them. Oh, _please_ ,” she begged in broken tones.

He put her down roughly on a pile of gold and rose up. He stood back and spread his wings to their full breadth. “Well, thief, do you now? Your dwarves will come for you, and I will crush them. I will obliterate them. And I will take you to their hills, and I will kill the iron dwarves as well while you watch!”

Bilba's hand flew to her pocket, and past her sobs she managed, “You are truly a creature of legend!” Her eyes immediately found an odd patch on his scales. It stood out black against the gold of his underbelly. There was a bare spot on his chest, just below his heart. “Y-You outshine all of the old tales. I will have to tell the world of your majesty, surly.”

She took a breath then and vanished, grabbed her sword from the floor and fled across the hall. But she made mistakes of her own. It was purely her nerves. She was so shaken she didn't realize she'd done it. She dared to laugh at Smaug.

She was barely into the tunnel as he roared behind her, took a breath and sent fire after her heels. The dwarves hastened their descent at the sight of the light, but Bilba barreled into Thorin. “Go! Go! Go!” she pushed him back. “Run, you idiots!” And they fled out of the door as the fire whipped around their feet. And she... she was on fire. “Put me out!”

Thorin threw his coat over her smothered her to his chest.

Smaug cursed how small the tunnel was.

“Perhaps I should give your dwarves a visit, _princess_ ,” he growled and fire shot out of the tunnel again. “And when I have eaten them, and burned those miserable lake men who would dare house them, I shall return for you!”

He tore around the corner sending quakes and booms far into the land around the mountain.

 

Bilba struggled away from Thorin and started shaking him by the shoulders. “He's going to destroy the town! Where is that bird?” She whirled around, her hands pulling at her hair. “Where is that stupid talking bird!?”

“I am a raven, ma'am!” Coräc said, but landed on Thorin's shoulder all the same.

“You have to go to Laketown. Find the captain. Bard! Bard was his name! There's a weak spot. There's a bare spot on Smaug's chest on the left, just below his heart! Go! Go! You have to warn them! How fast can you fly? Could you out fly a dragon?”

“You do me a disservice, ma'am, if you think a scaly beast is faster than I!”

“I'll build you the biggest golden bird house to ever exist if you just go!”

He gave a shrill cry and sped away as the crashing in the mountain grew louder and louder.

“Oh, gods, it's all my fault! They're all going to die! I just had to open my big mouth. I could have made up any lie, but no! In the lake town, I said!” she yelled at herself and paced around the ledge. “What are we going to do?”

Thorin grabbed her by the arms and held her still.

But at that moment a tremendous sound came as the front gates of Erebor were thrown off of their hinges and were sent several hundred feet across the ground. The roar that Smaug let loose was nothing like the one in the mountain. It had the dwarves and Bilba on their knees covering their ears. Thorin grabbed Bilba by the shoulder and pulled. Dwalin was up and shoving Ori. Each of the dwarves were grabbing at their brother's and running.

“Inside! Get inside!”

It was not a lie that a dragon's wings were a hurricane. Smaug circled around the mountain cursing her. “I don't think I shall wait, _princess_. True or not, you do not get the pleasure of mocking me!”

Fire scorched the stone before he threw himself into the mountainside.

“It's going to collapse. Move! Move!”

And they sprinted down the tunnel, Roäc flying just over their heads, and they all fell into the dark of mountain.

 

“Is everyone okay?” Bofur asked as he pulled himself from the pile of dwarves at the bottom of the tunnel. Most just groaned.

They pulled themselves apart and got to their feet. The tunnel had caved in behind them. Bilba was already pulling away from the group and pacing across the room, talking to herself. “What have I done? What are we going to do? Oh, I should never gone out of my door.” She put her hands on her knees and couldn't quite catch her breath. “We're all going to die. I'm going to die in this stupid mountain.”

“We need to arm ourselves,” Thorin said and started into the hall, scaling over gold with half of the company at his heels.

Bofur hovered around her. “You okay, lass?”

“No.”

And in what was likely not her proudest moment, much like the first night she met the company, she fainted.

When she came too a short while later her head was in someone's lap and she scrambled to sit up. “It's okay, mizim. Be still.” Thorin put a hand on her shoulder, but she just shook her head and sat forward.

“You're already using gross pet names,” Fili threw up his hands. “I should have stayed over there.”

Kili laughed and held his hand out after his brother. “What did I tell you? Pay up!”

Fili grimaced and stuck his hand in the nearest pile of gold and started to pelt his brother with coins.

Bilba turned to Thorin. “This isn't any time to be playing. Thorin, the dragon is going to the town. He'll burn them into the lake. They don't stand a chance! We have to do something.”

He put a hand on either shoulder. “Right now you are going to breathe.”

“But!” Tears were starting to streak down her face.

“We are too far from Esgaroth. There is nothing we can do. We trust that Coräc gets your message there in time, and we arm ourselves. You did well. You found his weak point.”

“They'll all die...” she said and it was barely more than a whisper. He reached out to hold her, but she pushed herself up to her feet and wrapped her arms around herself. “Arm ourselves,” she muttered quietly. Her knees felt like jelly. “I can't even hold a sword, how am I supposed to arm myself.”

Thorin froze as he rose behind her. It was the first chance he'd really had to actually look at her back since she'd come out of the tunnel, her coat on fire. No longer adrenaline fueled, his heart skipped a beat. “Bilba, your hair.”

She looked over her shoulder at him and furrowed her brow. “What?”

“It's burned,” he said and walked over to her and very carefully touched it. Black ends fell away like curls of dust.

She sat down on a gilded chest and pulled her hair over her shoulder to look at it. A few inches were burned away. She brushed and pulled at it with her fingers until the scorched ends were mostly gone. “It's not so bad,” she said. “It's better than being dead.” Bilba let her hands fall into her lap, and she didn't bother to hide that she was trembling. “He could have crushed me. He could have snapped me in half.” She turned frightened eyes to Thorin. “He... he had me in his hand and he was going to...” She ran her hands over her eyes and back through her hair. “I couldn't breathe.” Thorin sat down beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She hissed and pushed him back. “Not so tight.”

“I'm sorry.” He held her hands instead. “You're hurt. You need to let Oin look at you.”

She swallowed hard. “Right now I'll be fine. If Smaug comes back...”

“If Smaug comes back you are not going to be here. I'm going to take you to another part of the mountain.”

She pulled her hands away. “No.”

His face was tight, but he said nothing. He would take away if had to be done kicking and screaming, but he would prefer it otherwise. “You're getting looked at. Now.”

 

Oin looked at her ribs and prodded her back and arms. He rubbed a salve on the backs of her legs where the fire touched her heels.

“You'll be sore,” he said. “Maybe for a few days. I don't think you'll bruise much more than yellow,” he said as he was mixing up some liquid. “You were very lucky.”

Thorin stood against a wall, arms crossed and eyes wandering over the gold. He had to take her somewhere safe. It had to be done. He knew she was not going to like him for it.

Oin held out the cup for Bilba. “You drink this and you'll be feeling better soon enough.”

It smelled familiar. Looked familiar. She looked at Oin hard. “What is it?”

“It's a sleeping draught. You need one.”

“No!”

“You're hurt, and you need to rest. You look damn near manic. I'm the doctor here.”

“There is a dragon out there!” she shouted. “Why does every one of you seem to think I can't handle myself? Have I not proven myself yet?”

Thorin looked at her. “Of course you have. Time and time again, but this one time you need to let us protect you as best we can.”

She glared at him.

“Please.”

Bilba frowned. “As much as my father tried to tell me that as a child, please is not a magic word.”

He sighed. “Ghivashel, will you just do this one thing for me?”

“Why?”

“Because I am scared,” he admitted. “Because Smaug has already had his hands on you once. He has already sworn to come back for you. I don't want to see you get hurt.”

“Fine,” she said tightly and snatched the cup from Oin. “And this will make you fight easier, knowing I'm asleep in some dark corner?”

“It will.”

She looked at the cup in her hands. It tasted like one of Bofur's sweaty boots. She pinched her nose and drank it anyway. “Fine,” she said more softly and less like poison. “Fine.”

As soon as it was down Thorin had an arm around her shoulders. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Well, I don't plan to put you in a dark corner. I'm curious about how much of the mountain has survived,” he said as they left through a dim hall. Every step made her tired, and every step saw the destruction grow less and less. “I'm surprised I remember it so well,” he said quietly. “I remember how the air should move. And remember how it should smell, even though it doesn't smell that way anymore.”

“Give it time,” she said but there wasn't much hope behind her voice now. It was still edged with anger.

When they passed skeletons she had look away and cover her mouth.

“We'll give them all a proper burial once we've reclaimed Erebor,” he said.

She nodded quietly to that.

“Did you see the Arkenstone?” he asked.

“No... I didn't have much of a chance to look really,” she said stiffly.

“Sorry. I had to ask.”

“I know. It's fine.”

“What happened with Smaug?”

She clenched her eyes shut tight for a moment. “Like I said, he grabbed me and I thought he would crush me. I really don't want to talk about it right now of that's okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself again.

He wanted to stop and hold and take all her pains away and all her bad memories, but nothing could ever erase what had happened to her. No one forgot a dragon. “Of course. If you ever want to I'll listen.”

“I know. I know, I just don't want to think about it. Can we talk about something else, please? Is Erebor what you were expecting?”

As he went on he knew she wasn't listening, and he hardly paid any mind to what he was saying. It was just to ease her mind, just to fill the dead air. They passed many halls and rooms and Thorin pointed out what they had been long ago. They went up some stairs into a hall that looked untouched by everything but time. There were moth eaten banners and inches of dust, but under it she could see what could be glittering floors and patterns on the walls. Thorin paused at another set of stairs and took a breath.

He smiled at Bilba before they continued up, and she had to force back a yawn. Her whole body was heavy with sleep.

There were sets of doors up and down the next hall. Some were still thrown open, things knocked over in the rush to flee the mountain. As they neared the end Thorin stepped away from Bilba and ran his fingers along the doors. “Frerin's,” he said. He pointed across the hall. “And Dis'.”

“These are,” she looked around. “They were your rooms.”

He looked at the end of the hall at a grand set of doors and nodded. “My parents stayed at the end, and I stayed in the rooms on the right.”

Bilba started walking while Thorin lingered behind. The door knobs were coated in dust. When he didn't step up she cautiously turned the knob herself and pushed the door open. She looked back at him and held the door open. “You didn't bring me up here to stand outside,” she said. She didn't smile, though there was a part of her that wanted to. There was part of her that wanted to be happy right now, but she couldn't. She waited at the door until he stepped in and she followed him.

To say it was beautiful would be an understatement.

But to say it was home? Well, Thorin would be lying if he said that. It was a taste of home. It was something that hadn't been his in over one hundred and seventy years.

It would be home again someday, but not today.

While Bilba wandered into and out of different doors, Thorin went to his old bedroom. Every movement was something methodical. He took the top most blankets from his bed and shook out the dust before putting them back. He wiped dust from a lamp and nearly tried to light it before noticing there was no oil. He started to reach into a drawer where he knew he used to keep more, but stopped.

Bilba stood in the doorway, her hand covering another yawn. “You have a harp,” she said.

“Yes. I play the harp.”

She nearly laughed, but only shook her head with a slight smile. She sat down on the edge of his bed. “It's not very...” she trailed off, unsure how to say it.

“What?”

“Dwarvish? It's very delicate.”

Thorin laughed and took a seat beside her. “I didn't chose it. My grandfather insisted, but I have no idea why.”

She nodded quietly and crossed her arms, trying her best not to just lie down and fall asleep.

“You're tired,” he said and gave her a pointed look.

She frowned at him before she reached up and twisted a hand into his hair to pull him slightly closer so she could glare at him properly. “This is stupid, Thorin.”

“It was for your own good,” he said. “Trust me, you'll be safer up here.”

“I'll be asleep while a dragon is killing you all. You call that safe?” It was becoming a battle to keep her eyes open.

“I call it a better option than seeing him kill you.” He had to look away from her glare, but she let go of his hair with a sigh. “We failed to kill Smaug once. You've seen the bones of my kin. They are my failure. And so too will be the Men of the Lake. I should have gone with you and killed the beast or died trying. It is my job to slay him. It is my place to protect my people. If the dragon returns you will be hidden and you will have the chance to sneak away. I won't let you get hurt. I won't fail again.”

“You are unbelievably selfish, you know that? What am I supposed to do then? Lie here and sleep while I fail at what I'm supposed to do? If any of you die, and I could have helped, what do you think that'll do to me? I love you, you insufferable oaf. What do you think it's going to do to me if you die?” Her words were starting to come out like mush and she began to slump on Thorin's shoulder.

He gently laid her down and pulled the blankets up around her. “You'll live and you'll cope.”

Thorin shut the doors and lingered outside. A part of him wanted to lock it, bar it, something. But he didn't. Had he stood and thought on it much longer though... he likely would have. And he knew that was wrong... but... Dwalin and Balin were coming up the hall as he stood there and he stopped thinking about it.

“Is this where you snuck off too?” Dwalin asked.

“I didn't sneak anywhere,” he said, finally turning away and walking to them. “We need to block the front gates. Use anything we have. I want the main hall fortified and I want everyone armored and well armed.”

“Well ahead of you,” Balin said. “I've already got the boys working on the gates. Should be done by morning.”

Dwalin huffed. “That's assuming we have until morning.”

“I sent Roäc east,” Balin said. “With a letter to Dain. We've made it this far, maybe he'll send us an army now.”

Dwalin looked over his shoulder before they left the hall. “She wanted to stay and fight,” he said. “You should have let her stay.”

“If you had the choice would you let Ori stay and fight.”

“No,” Dwalin said without hesitation. “But I don't have the choice, and I'm not sure you should have either.”

 

When she woke it was several hours later and she was alone. “I have half a mind to hit him,” she said as she got up and wrapped the blankets around herself. She padded through the rooms and out into the halls. She was fairly certain she could find her way back down to the treasury.

She stopped at a split in the hall. The dwarves would be to the left, if she remembered correctly. She turned right. She just wasn't in the mood for dwarves right now.

She didn't go far before she found herself out on a balcony overlooking the front of the mountain and back down into the main hall. It was stacked with stones and wood, but no one was around. Had it been that way before? No, she was certain it hadn't.

On the balcony were broken pieces of stone and old banners, faded and torn, tied up around fallen rocks and pillars. She sat down close to the edge and looked out into the darkness, out towards the Long Lake.

Where was the dragon?

Shouldn't there be fire? Smoke?

It was dark. Black. It was after dawn and the sun had yet to rise. She looked for light on the water and saw none. She saw nothing but the black of the storm clouds.

A loud crack split the air, and a flash of lightning came from the north. Then another.

Then the skies opened up and the rain came down.

 

Coräc was soaked to the bone, and he was so stressed we was certain his feathers were going to start falling out mid-flight. Every time the thunder cracked he shrieked.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to try out-flying Smaug. He wasn't sure quite how he'd done it. He came around the side of Erebor and nearly dropped from the air. The door was gone, broken and caved in.

He spoke curses in the language of birds and flew around the mountain. Even in the dark he had sharp eyes. He could see someone over what had been the main gates.

“Miss Bilba!” he called out as he recognized her and flew closer.

She rose her head, barely hearing her name over the sound of the thunderstorm. The young raven flew right up into her face before she even saw him. “Coräc!”

“Ma'am,” he said as he landed on her arm and was promptly covered up in her blanket.

“You're sopping wet. Be still. There,” she said, patting him dry. “You're alive! I was so worried. What happened?”

“As I was trying to say before you began to smother me,” he said wiggling free of the blanket. “The dragon is dead.”

“Wh-what?”

“I saw him fall with my own eyes,” he said. “Bard shot him through the heart and he fell into the lake.”

“He's dead?” she said and started to rise and stumble backwards. “He's dead!” She turned and leaned over the balcony and shouted into the main hall. “Thorin! Fili! Kili! Someone must hear me! Bofur! Dwalin! _Hey_!”

She heard them running before she saw them. Thirteen dwarves came barreling into the room in full armor with swords and axes drawn.

“Smaug is dead!”


	8. The Fall (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whiskey tastes of victory, but everything else tastes of defeat. Gold sickness is an all-consuming demon, and Thorin is not as strong as he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the next couple of chapters I'm going to be putting a trigger warning up here for emotional abuse. Also, I'm slowly throwing canon out of the window.

Thorin's heavy armor fell away on the stairs as he ran to the balcony, several dwarves at his heels. He skidded to a halt by Bilba's side. Coräc hopped around nervously on a crumbled bit of wall. “The dragon has fallen,” he repeated. “It is good news to be sure, but it is still very dangerous. I've come with warnings, sir.”

Thorin's broad smile fell away. “What warnings?”

“Many men were killed in the fight. Several homes lost. The survivors gather and speak of marching to Erebor to demand remunerations. The Master has raised their militia,” he shook at the memory of the man. “He is frightening and I wouldn't suggest speaking with him. Mr. Bard slew the dragon. I saw it happen. He wishes only for what will restore the town and assist the families who suffer. I would trust him, sir.”

Thorin turned to look out towards Esgaroth. “I will speak with Bard, but I will not be threatened by an army. Tell him to leave their forces behind.”

Coräc looked down. “I doubt he will, sir. I will see.”

Balin looked out towards the lake town as well. “It will be days before they're able to march. Smaug likely decimated them.”

“There was much damage,” Coräc agreed. “It may be a week before they come.”

Thorin nodded gravely. “Can you spare a raven for another mission, or a thrush if they still hold alliance with us?”

“I shall call on my people. Someone will come.”

Thorin nodded again.

Bilba forced up a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “Come inside. You're tired. We should have something you can eat in the rations.”

Coräc made a small bow. “Thank you, Miss Bilba, but I would much rather know where my father is.”

“I'm not sure. He was in the mountain, last I saw.”

Balin turned back. “Roäc is safe. He's flown east to deliver a letter. With the dragon dead we'll need to send another.”

Even though he was immensely relieved Coräc was still stiff. “There... there is more, sir. Word has already spread of Smaug's fall. The elves are said to be readying to march from the forest.”

Thorin shouted and had fire in his eyes. “They come to steal our treasure?”

Coräc hopped back, his feather ruffled. “I-I don't know, sir. I can send someone to spy and see.”

Thorin forced himself to calm down, running a tense hand through is hair. “They will be well rewarded, Coräc. As will you for your service.”

“Thank you, sir. I will find a thrush to deliver your message.” With that he quickly flew off.

Bilba looked around uneasy. “They're bringing an army. I thought the dragon was trouble enough. What do we do about an army?” She looked at Thorin expecting all the answers but he didn't have a single one. He hadn't even counted on killing the dragon. His plans stopped a day ago on the mountainside with a locked door and an old key.

“We pray that Dain will come.”

“If we pay Bard won't that solve things?” she asked.

Thorin tried not to make the growl that was growing in his throat. He put an arm around Bilba and started into the mountain. “Perhaps with Bard, but not the Master. I would sooner see a war than give him a dirty coin. I will meet with Bard and no other. Balin, inform me when he arrives.”

“They need to tend to the wounded and dead. Let's hope the elves are only coming to assist them. They are allies after all.”

“One thing I trust is Thranduil's love of shiny things. He is coming here after Laketown, if he even stops there.”

 

Thorin disappeared as soon as they were inside. Bilba sat down and was so stressed she thought she would be sick. She sat alone in a large room off of the main hall and calmed down while the dwarves wandered off in several directions. Exploring. Remembering. Because for now there was nothing they could do about men or elves.

Fili, Kili and Ori came back first and sat with her.

“Balin showed us where our mom's rooms were,” Kili said. “Here!” he held up a blue cloak, lined with fur and beautiful silver stitching. “Balin says until they can tell if the heating still works you'll probably need something more than that coat. We tried to find socks, but I don't think any dwarf would have any big enough.”

She almost laughed. “I'm fine, thank you. My feet are warm enough.” She pulled the cloak around herself. It was musty, but at least it was added warmth. The further they got from the main gates the colder it got.

Ori sat on the table and swung his feet. “It's a bit strange,” he said. “At least for me. It's not like home, but I'm supposed to feel like it is,” he said. “It was my mom's home though. Our ancestral home... but Ered Luin is home to me.”

“Did you go around to her place?” Bilba asked.

“No. Not yet, anyway. I think Dori wants to be alone for a while, so me and Nori let him go. It's not like either of us ever lived here, but Dori was born here.”

Bilba nodded. “I guess I never really thought about how many of you were and weren't actually born here.”

Fili hummed. “Balin and Dwalin were born here. And Oin. I don't know about Gloin,” he said.

“And Uncle,” Kili added. “The rest of us were born on the road or in Ered Luin.”

“Get the door,” she could hear Gloin grunting from down the way. There was a good deal of bodies knocking around before Gloin and Bofur came in laden with barrels, and the rest of the company following with mugs, their sacks of rations, and instruments. Dori, Balin, and Thorin were the only ones absent.

Bilba smiled and shook her head as they put down their haul.

If anything can be said about dwarves it is that they can latch on to the good. Men and elves were planning to march, but they still celebrated the death of Smaug.

Another thing is that they are also quite good at is finding booze.

Lots of it.

Lots of very old dwarvish whiskey.

The great stores of Erebor were rotted to nothing, but there were barrels upon barrels of old ale, wine, and whiskey.

The rain still fell in heavy drops, but no one cared. They drank to their fortune, they drank to their health. They drank to Erebor and to Bard the Dragonslayer. They even toasted their master burglar.

Bilba didn't drink much, but she will maintain that dwarvish whiskey is just not as good as the Gamgee's home brew. It is a recipe kept secret for generations no matter how much she begged to know it. Or how much her father begged. The Gamgee's had tight lips. If the dwarves ever found themselves back in the Shire she would be sure to get them some.

They played flutes and fiddles and Bilba smiled. “Come on, I'm going to show you how hobbits dance.” She pushed Fili and Kili out into the middle of the room and grabbed Nori by the arm while waving at others to follow.

 

She was twirling around, her arms above her head, when Thorin came in. Kili tripped over Fili's feet and the pair of them fell back into Nori, who fell back into Bombur. They all landed in a pile and Nori was howling, red-faced from laughter, as he was sandwiched between Bombur and the princes. The rest of them raised their drinks to Thorin.

Bilba smiled and grabbed him by the arm. “Where have you been?”

“Uncle!” Kili called out. “Bilba's been teaching us hobbit songs and dances all evening!” He righted himself and brushed off of pants. “Oh, sing the one about Tom. There's this weird man that lives in the woods,” Kili said and pulled his brother to his feet.

“It's a song I learned from a couple of Brandybucks,” she said as if any of them would have a clue what a Brandybuck was.

Thorin laughed and wrapped and arm around her while Kili started singing off-key.

“That's not how it goes,” she laughed but no one could hear over his crooning.

“I don't want to drag you away from the party, but would you mind coming with me for a while?” Thorin asked.

“Sure,” she said and let herself be led away. A number of whistles followed them and Thorin may have thrown a obscene gesture over his shoulder at them. And Bilba just might have too.

He laughed and smiled fondly. “You look good in blue,” he said noting her cloak. She looked very good in Durin blue.

“Your nephews found it for me. I think it's their mother's.”

He looked at it more closely and laughed again. “It's too long to have been hers. I think she might have taken that from me at some point.”

“Well,” she said wrapping it tighter around herself, “I might keep it then. Though it needs a wash,” she said catching a whiff of old must and making a face.

“I'll have you a much better one made to fit.”

She nodded, thinking about it. A new cloak would be nice. They walked down the hall in the royal wing and instead of going to Thorin's childhood room again, he held open the doors to the rooms at the end of the hall. The King's suite.

“I have a gift for you,” he said.

“What is it?”

“You'll see,” he said. “First I wanted to ask something.”

“Of course.”

“Would you allow me to cut your hair. It's still burnt,” he said looked at her and mentally braced himself for something bad.

She wasn't sure what he was expecting. He looked very relieved when she just shrugged and gave a small smile. “Okay.” She stepped past into the rooms and looked around. If Thorin's rooms had been beautiful then she lacked a word for these. The walls and floors were streaked with seams of gold and something blue. While they were dirty with age she knew once they glittered and shone. She wandered through rooms curiously with a smile on her face until she walked out onto a balcony and saw the black sky and the heavy rains. She shuddered and pulled the cloak tight around herself again. “Does it normally rain like this?” she murmured.

“No.”

She turned to go back in and Thorin led her to a chair by the fire. As she settled down he pulled up another chair to sit behind her.

“Last night,” he started. “Are you still angry with me?”

Bilba sighed and shook her head. “I should be. I have every right to be.”

“I know.”

Thorin started to undo the small braids at the top of her head and handed her her beads. “I am a little mad,” she said. “But mostly I'm just scared. A little celebration blocked it out for a moment.” She wrung her hands. “We shouldn't stay here. What if something goes wrong?”

“We can't abandon Erebor. No harm will come to you. If I must trade away my wealth I will. I won't allow you to be endangered again.”

She nodded once and reached over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. “It's so dark outside,” she said. “This storm feels ominous.”

“You sound like you've been talking to Oin.”

She laughed. “I was. He doesn't like this storm either. And he has some odd ideas about us. Something about fate and portents. Isn't that silly? Like we're something out one of my mother's bad romance novels.” They both got laugh out of that.

He reached into his coat for a small knife and began deciding just where to start cutting.

“I remember when I suggested I cut my hair you all shouted at me.”

“It's a dwarvish custom,” he explained. “It is considered a weakness to let others cut your hair. To have your hair forcibly cut is a great shame. We keep our children's hair in check, but once they are old enough generally they handle it themselves. We help the injured and the elderly. And in this case I help my courted. It is one of the only exceptions outside of family. We are not only allowed, but occasionally encouraged to show weakness to each other. It is a sign of great trust,” he told her as he used his knife to trim her hair.

She bit her tongue, but her face spoke volumes.

“Say it if you wish. We are odd.”

“You are. You're a very strange bunch,” she laughed. “So there isn't a single barber for all you dwarves? That's so... odd.”

“Hobbits aren't exactly the epitome of ordinary.”

“And what is so weird about hobbits?”

“For one,” he said and swung a foot forward to gently kick her foot, “You don't wear shoes.” It wasn't until now that she noticed Thorin had taken off his boots and was completely barefoot. It was a fairly uncommon sight. They all normally slept in their boots on the road.

“It is considered very forward to touch a hobbit's feet, I'll have you know.”

He smirked and pressed his lips to her neck. “I find it hard to believe it is more forward than we have already been.”

She blushed and reached around to playfully smack him on the leg. “We'd be a scandal in the Shire.”

“The way you speak I'm led to believe you were scandalous long before me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I'll have you know all children run wild, I was just a bit more wild than the other children.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows in challenge. “You're quite certain?”

“Alright, a lot more wild!” she admitted. “But I became a very proper, upstanding hobbit once I came of age. We Bagginses are very well thought of,” she wagged a finger. “We never have any adventures or do anything unexpected.”

“I wouldn't say never.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wizards,” she said by way of explanation. “Speaking of, it has been a long while since we saw Gandalf.”

Thorin shrugged. “He comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Still,” she said, “I do hope he's alright wherever he's gone off to.” She wrung her hands then, a thought returning to her. “Thorin, we need to talk.”

“What of?”

“I'm worried,” she said quietly. “I didn't say anything before because in Mirkwood I was so focused on getting you all out, and in town I was sick, and I admit the dragon made me forget most other things. In Mirkwood... I saw an orc.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “The orcs are marching from the south. Thranduil would occasionally have me brought up to see if I would speak. The day before we escaped he said an orc pack had chased us into the woods and demanded to know why. I know well enough that Azog brings an army.”

She wore a tired frown. “Why haven't you said anything to the others then?”

His shoulders stiffened just marginally. “We are but fourteen. While Dain's men may come from the east there is no guarantee he will be here before the orcs. They already live under the threat of men and elves, I would not yet add the fear of a orcish slaughter to their minds.”

She nodded solemnly. “The one I saw said he served the One. What did he mean?”

“It means that he is a fool who serves someone who died long ago. Sauron,” he said.

“I remember that name from one of Old Took's books. I can't remember who that is.”

“He wanted to destroy the world. That is all I really know.” Thorin put down his knife, finished cutting her hair. He'd cut away more than he wanted to. Her hair which once fell halfway down her back now fell to the bottom of the shoulder blades at best. He held out a hand and Bilba gave him the beads.

As he braided them into her hair she picked at the hem of her skirt. “When are we going to tell the others?”

Thorin frowned. “Soon enough. When I feel more assured of Dain's arrival I will tell them.”

“But,” she started. She didn't particularly want to worry them anymore, but they needed to be prepared. She bit her tongue. For the moment she would wait.

“Now,” Thorin said. “I told you I had a gift.” He rose to get it from across the room. It was something silver and shimmering. “Mithril,” he said and held it out for her to touch. “It's light as a feather, but harder than a dragon's scales.”

“It's beautiful,” she said.

“Try it on,” he said and she smiled before taking off her cloak and coat.

“Mail should go on under my bodice, shouldn't it?”

Thorin nodded, “But over your shirt.”

Bilba smirked before stripping out of it. “Don't look at me like that,” she said. “It's not like you've not seen me in less.”

He laughed. “I haven't had much of a chance to appreciate the sight in the light.”

“Shut up,” she murmured and pulled the mail shirt over her head. She looked down and tried to twist and see her own body. It felt like she was wearing nothing. “Well, I feel magnificent,” she said. “But I expect I look absurd. I wish there was a mirror somewhere.”

“I can find one if you'd like.”

She shook her head. “Thank you for this.”

“I'm glad you approve,” he said. “I will be able to rest easier knowing you are protected even if I am not there to protect you. Nothing can penetrate mithril. Not even a dragon.”

Bilba didn't point out that it wouldn't stop one from squeezing her to death. Instead she just smiled.

“It's a little tight across the chest,” she joked.

“That can fixed,” he said.

 

As evening crept into night they talked about Erebor and what it was before, and what it would be again someday. It would be something even greater, Thorin said. He would see Erebor become the greatest kingdom in Middle Earth. More radiant and beautiful than any other in history. He just lit up. There was so much conviction in his voice that Bilba could only sit and smile at him as he went on. He was a real king, who cared for his people with all his heart. He would do it. Erebor would be everything he ever dreamed.

She loved him so much in that moment. She loved that look on his face. He could do anything in that moment.

When he finally stopped and looked at her she was still grinning. She leaned over and kissed him.

In a room at the end of the hall, in a room for kings and queens, they found the bed.

Her mail hit the stone floor with a sound like shattering glass. Her clothes fell like forgotten flags. Thorin's dropped like stones, the weights of war and a heavy heart. And they loved the sight of each other. They touched each other in the light while the storm raged outside. Together they blocked out the darkness, if only for a moment, before the fire burned down low.

In a bed big enough for ten she and Thorin found the center. Skin to skin they met each other on old sheets that smelled of must and hints of the past.

He kept her hips close. His hands held her tight, afraid to lose her. His fingertips bore into bone. He sunk into the depths of her body and this time she did not bite back her voice. She called out his name. She spoke aloud words of lust and need, and they held him like a spell. Skin was bruised in flowers of yellows and purples and blues, a canvas of love composed in the dark.

It was blind passion in the heat of a victory they weren't sure they had earned.

They fucked to feel the life of it, to know they were still breathing. They fucked because it all still felt like an awful dream they'd been jolted out of by the beat of dragon wings and the heat of white fire. They just wanted to cling to this moment, to do anything to block out their fears. In this moment was safety and relief and comfort. There was love in this. Deep and abiding. A desperate kind of hope in this hollow, dusty mountain.

It was home, and she brought him here. He knew this stone. He knew these walls. He knew her skin. He cried into her hair and left tear stains on her shoulders while she stoked his spine and whispered words of love.

He was home.

And she...

She was his home.

She was his.

 

He woke early and moved quietly as he could while he pulled on his clothes. He sat back on the edge of the bed and watched Bilba sleep for a moment, and nearly kissed her. He stopped though, close enough for his breath to ghost over her skin.

He didn't want her to wake.

She should stay upstairs. She should rest and be comfortable. She had done too much for them, for him already. She didn't need to sit in down among the gold all day searching for the Arkenstone with them.

His hand lingered at the door, and he turned away before he could let himself start thinking of shutting her in. _No_. He was not becoming this.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and leaned back against the wall. He would not, could not let himself slip. But hadn't he caught himself already? He had only let himself be alone in the treasury for was he thought was merely minutes. Whole hours were missing from his mind.

He shook his head and started away.

He would be fine. It was just... it was because he had been away for so long. That was it. It wouldn't be like that today.

 

Bilba woke up alone. Again. Her clothes were cleaned and laid out for her. The cloak Kili had given her was washed. Her ration had been set out on the table. She wasn't sure who had done it, but she had a feeling it hadn't been Thorin, thought it may have been his suggestion.

The rooms and the halls were warmer than before, almost comfortable. It was late. Ridiculously late. But she felt well rested for the first time in ages.

And she wasn't sure why, but everything felt a degree off.

She found most of the company down in the treasury, up to their waists in gold, searching for something. _The Arkenstone_ , her mind supplied.

She paused in the doorway to watch and Balin appeared not a moment later on a balcony overlooking the room. “Thorin! Roäc is back with a letter from Dain.”

Bilba looked out into the room but couldn't see him.

“You can take care of it, Balin.”

He crossed his arms. “Thorin, you need to read this.”

“What does it say?” he called.

Bilba could see Balin's frustration. “He's gotten both letters. He's marching this way as we speak.”

When Balin didn't get any response he spun and left, muttering something to himself. She ducked out of the room again, going up the nearest staircase and hoping it would lead up to him.

Balin was in a room just before the hall opened up to look at the treasury. He was muttering to himself with a quill in his hand and several papers stacked beside him.

“Balin?” she ventured a step in.

“Oh, lass. Did you mange to sneak away from the hunt then?”

“No, not exactly. I wasn't even told about it.”

He hummed, engrossed in his paperwork. He was trying to work out an estimate that sounded reasonable to give Esgaroth based on descriptions Coräc had given him that morning. The damage was more than expected, but the death toll lower. Then there was Thranduil who was indeed marching to Erebor. His men had stopped at the lake and would continue on with Bard's men. Naturally they would both be bringing their armies. He wasn't sure what the elf wanted. By now they were aware that the company was alive.

He ran his hands through his hair, streaked with ink from his fingers.

She made sure to shut the door and sat down across from him at the table. There were letters, and pages of calculations and... “Are those battle plans?”

“A last resort,” he told her and put down his quill.

“Why would the men and elves attack?”

Balin shook his head sadly. Bilba was a gentle woman under all her brave deeds. She would not know about wars. “If they refuse our offer, or if Thorin refuses to pay them, they will attack for what they're owed.”

“Why would he refuse to pay?” And she genuinely didn't understand why not. They had more gold that they could ever dream to spend. The town was wrecked. They needed it.

“It's complicated, lass.” He shuffled around a few papers and stopped to look over a letter to Dain. His third draft. He'd have to rewrite it again before he sent it.

She nodded even though she wanted him to explain further. Her fingers twitched on the table. She needed to tell him, needed to say something about the orcs.

“Dain is coming, right? Absolutely?”

“Yes. So, assuming this storm doesn't delay him too much he'll be here by the time Bard is.”

Thorin said to wait. She could wait a day. She took a deep breath and swallowed back her words. If Thorin didn't say anything by tomorrow she would.

Balin took her expression as one of fear. “Don't worry,” he said. “We'll all get out of this just fine.”

 

She found Coräc hopping around in the main hall looking lost. “Miss Bilba,” he crowed and flew over. “I was wondering if you could direct me to Mr. Balin? He wanted me to get more exact estimates of the damages to Esgaroth.”

“I'll show you,” she said. “First though, I wonder if I could ask one last favor. If you, or another raven could go and see something for me.”

He cocked his head to one side. “I would be happy to help you. What did you need me to look at?”

She looked around as if expecting someone to see her, as if she were doing something wrong. And she wasn't. “I need you to fly south. This is to be secret for now. There... I'll tell you after you've seen Balin.”

After he relayed his information he and Bilba went out onto the balcony looking south. “There's an army coming,” she said. “Up from beyond the town. I need you to see how many days away they are.”

“I can do that,” he said.

“Be very careful,” she warned. “Don't let yourself be seen.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She stroked his feathers gently. “I don't like sending you,” she said. “I don't want you to be hurt because of something I asked you to do.”

He pressed his head into her palm before hopping away. “I will admit that I am afraid, but if you have courage than so do I.”

She gave him a scratch on the head before she gave him one last instruction. “There's a balcony high up on the eastern side of the mountain. When you come back meet me there.”

He nodded and flew away. She started to reach after him. “I– Oh, good luck,” she mumbled as he disappeared into the distance.

She sat alone for a long time with her thoughts. By the time she wandered back to the company they were calling it quits for the night. Thorin put arm around her. Everything about it felt different. Not precisely wrong, but it was not the same arm that held her last night. He looked at her with same glint in his eye that he had when looked at the gold.

He swallowed hard. He would not let himself slip into this. He could control it.

It was a conscious effort not to look at her like she was a some jewel to be had... even if he wanted her as much as he wanted that stone.

 

It didn't surprise her to wake up alone again.

It did surprise her to find Coräc on the bed post just staring at her. He was out of breath and ruffled worse than she'd ever seen. He was just opening his mouth to squawk at her to wake up when she opened her eyes and looked at him. “Coräc?”

“Miss Bilba, we have trouble!”

Her mind shutdown after she was was told the sheer number of orcs Coräc saw.

She was shouting, and somewhere in her terrified worries she gave him orders. “Go and warn Bard! Tell Thranduil!”

She ran off as he darted out of the room and into the gray morning, the storms slowed to a drizzle. She was tearing through halls, skidding around corners, still pulling on her clothes. She flew up the stairs and caught herself on the balcony overlooking the treasury.

“Lass?”

She almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of Balin's voice beside her.

“Balin! We have to talk. Now!” She all but dragged him into the room he'd been in the day before. She slammed the door and he wasn't sure if he was more confused or worried, but as soon as he actually could see her he knew. Something wasn't right here.

She twisted her hands in her hair and paced. “I can't wait. Thorin wanted to wait but we can't.” She flung her arms wide. “There are orcs marching from the south! Oh, they'll be here in just over a week. Balin there are so many. There are thousands of them!” Her voice was decimated. “What are we going to do!? Will Dain be here in time?” she cried.

But he stopped listening when she said orcs were marching and was already storming past her to the door and onto the overlook.

She fell into a chair, her knees too weak to stand. Balin's shouting and screaming and swearing echoed through the halls. The company came charging up the stairs like thunder and into the room wanting answers and information, but she had nothing.

She stood up, quaking, and was caught up in the fury of Thorin's eyes.

“I told you to wait!” _They'd never find the stone like this._

“Thorin, this isn't a game! They're so close!” She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, but she just opened and closed her hands in the air between them, the fear in her eyes slowing turning to match his rage. What was he thinking?

Thorin did not care for their audience.

“I have this under control.”

“There are over five thousand orcs, Thorin,” she said strong and slow hoping it would sink in. The company was shouting around them.

“When they come you will hide deep in the mountain. No one will find you. You do not need to worry.”

“I am not what you need to be concerned about right now! There are four armies now! Thorin this is a huge mess!” she screeched. “We're all going to die!”

He grabbed her, hands on either side of her face, and her cheeks burned his palms with rage. She gripped his wrists like iron shackles. “Go up stairs and wait for me,” he ground out. He forced himself to be calm, forced himself not to lose his temper or his mind.

“I would sooner go into Mirkwood,” she said through clenched teeth.

“This is not up for debate,” he said and let her loose too roughly. He pushed her back so she stumbled. She wanted nothing more than to draw back and slap him, but Fili caught her arm and he and Kili pulled her away, out of the room and away from the fight.

None of them caught the way Dwalin watched her as she left.

 

“Are you okay?”

“Did he hurt you?”

She shook them off and folded her arms over her chest and stamped down the halls while they tailed her. “I'm fine. I'm just peachy! Everyone I care about is going to die and Thorin is too concerned with who knows what to think like a rational adult! Yes, Fili, Kili, _I am fine_!”

They tried to gently grab her by the shoulders to stop her from marching down halls she didn't know, but she only pulled away. They gave each other unsure glances and kept following her, mentally remembering how to find their way back.

After what felt like an hour Bilba turned a corner and found herself in a hall she knew. She threw up her hands in frustration, wanting to be lost somewhere she wouldn't be found but instead was right back along the main halls.

She sat on a stone bench with a huff and the boys sat beside her.

Fili worried. He worried more than his brother and maybe even more than Balin. He'd spent his time close to Thorin's side. He promised his mother he would watch him.

They'd been in the mountain for mere days and everything his mother warned him about was happening. But it wasn't just Thorin with glazed eyes and sitting among his gold... it was worse by ten fold. It was a growing sickness in him, spiraling downhill too quickly handle. It was like someone pulled a lever and opened a floodgate. It had only been three days and he already seemed worse than the his mother's nightmare memories of her grandfather.

“Namad, you're sure he didn't hurt you?” he asked quietly as she calmed down.

“I'm okay,” she said looking at him and he looked for all the world scared for her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Fili, I'm okay,” she whispered as reassuringly as she could. There was nothing to worry about. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd fought with Thorin. It probably wouldn't be the last. But there was not one fiber of her that had any doubt that Thorin could never hurt her.

He would never. If she knew nothing else she knew that.

 

Thorin was left to deal with a lot of shouting and a few fights that threatened to break out. Dwalin stood ever imposing at his side. Thorin sounded like an idiot. He sounded raving mad if he thought for one second waiting to tell them about an oncoming bloodbath was smart.

But he didn't say anything. Dwalin knew his place. He would stand at his side, arms crossed, and be ever the enforcer of Thorin's orders.

But in private he would shout. He may have been Thorin's guard, his confidant, and his right hand... but he was also his lifelong friend and he knew when Thorin needed to be brought down a notch, but he had the sense not to completely undermine the king in front of his subjects.

His eyes lingered on the door long after Bilba was gone.

 

Fili and Kili sat to either side of her like guard dogs as Thorin walked up, his face blank. A careful construction of masked anger and hurt.

He looked at his nephews and gave them a short nod, but they didn't leave. They waited. Fili was just as carefully blank and still as Thorin, but Kili was pent up, his hands clenched at his sides.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I understand why you felt the need to tell Balin. I should not have waited,” he said even if he was lying through his teeth about the second statement. He understood why she told him, that didn't mean he liked it.

“Thank you,” she said. And she didn't apologize. She had nothing to be sorry for.

“Will you come with me?”

“Yes,” she said and looked to both of her brothers. “But first I want to know what we're going to do about Azog.”

His face was tight, and he took a moment to compose his words. “The company is split into two groups. One will ready us for war, the other will continue our search.”

She folder her hands in her lap, not exactly happy with his answer.

“Given their distance, and the distance of Dain's army, there is little else we can do.”

 _We could ask Bard and Thranduil for help_. She didn't say it even if she wanted to.

She rose slowly to walk with him. Kili started up after her, but his brother's hand on his arm stayed him and earned him a harsh look.

Once they were out of earshot he grabbed Fili by the arm. “Why are you letting her go?”

“Because she can take care of herself. Right now we have other things to do, like go and find out what we're actually doing about the orcs.” He stood up and waited for Kili to follow him. “Trust me, if I think she's in danger I will be the first one at her side.”

“There should never even be the risk of the that,” Kili frowned. “He's been acting so weird these last few days.”

“And that is another reason why we need to speak to the company now while she is keeping him busy.”

 

Bilba's days seemed to exist in two parts: sifting through gold, and keeping Thorin company. If Thorin had his way she wouldn't even be down in the treasury. She'd stay upstairs and just wait around. It would have driven her up a wall.

Everyday her heart sank lower. She watched Thorin continue to fall farther and farther. She tried, she fought as well she could against a beast she could not conquer, to keep him there. To keep his mind clear.

He would go on for hours about nothing. About gold and jewels and worthless things. She sat beside him and did his braids. He wore his grandfather's beads. Once she had finished she put her hands in her lap and looked away. Her eyes fell unfocused into the room.

She tuned him out and thought of better times. Of sun and grass and her round, green door. Her father's books. Her mother's chair beside the fire.

Clear skies.

Sitting in a circle of her friends, her family, with flowers in her hair and Thorin's genuine laugh. Fili and Kili smiling and joking. The company in good cheer... not what they were now. On edge. Looking through gold for a stone that would not save them from the slaughter marching to their door.

It would have been better if she were just numb. If she were distant as her stare. But she was afraid, so afraid. It ate away at her bones and she felt weak. It gnawed at her heartstrings.

This would pass. They would find the Arkenstone and this would pass. It had to, right?

She let her head rest on Thorin's shoulder and closed her eyes.

Until then she could do her best to keep his mind here. She would let him ramble on, and offer what comforts she could as long as she could, but Bilba Baggins was not a being of infinite patience.

She was scared, but she was also angry. She had to bottle up her anger so often when she was with him. Anger at his gold lust and his harsh words to the company to leave him be, or find the Arkenstone. Anger that he does nothing to stop at least one of the wars marching to him.

He has the opportunity for help, and yet he would do nothing.

 

Roäc came and went with letters. Thorin had yet to actually read a single one. That evening Bilba left the treasury before he did. She went up to sit with Balin for a while as he worked. She sighed and looked at his letters and papers, not that she could actually read any of the khuzdul. He told her enough though as he worked, grateful for her company.

“Dain's got five hundred men marching. They're armed and ready for the day they arrive. The storm slowed them a bit,” he said. “But these are mostly Ereborean dwarves and their children. They took refuge with him after the dragon came. They were quick to come when he called.” Balin nodded as he penned something. “It's good,” he said. “They're still loyal enough to return. They'll defend their home. They'll fight hard.”

Bilba nodded once, and wrung her hands under the table.

“Five hundred isn't enough, Balin.” Coräc had seen over five thousand, and he hadn't counted the wargs.

His hand slowed, but he didn't stop writing. “I know, lass. I've got plans though. You're not going into the fight, for one.”

“What?”

“There are back passages out of this mountain,” he explained.

“I'm not leaving you all.”

“You can't fight,” he said. “I know you try. Look, Azog's warg has your scent and will hunt you down. Azog nearly killed you once. This time he will finish the job. You humiliated him. He won't let you go. After Thorin and the lads you're his next target.”

She gripped the edge of the table until her fingers went white. “If it comes to war, I'll make my own decisions.”

“Bilba, it is not a matter of if anymore!” His hand hit the table but she didn't jump. “Bofur and Ori have already agreed to go and protect you.”

She wanted to reach across the table and shake him. “I don't care! I know I'm weaker than the rest of you, but I've come this far,” she said. “We have other options. Bard is out there with an army. And Thranduil! We can ally with them!”

He sighed heavily. “I've thought about it, you know I have, but they won't help us. Not so long as Thorin is acting the way he is.”

“I'll talk to him,” she said. “Maybe if I talk to him... Maybe he'll listen.”

Balin sighed and shook his head. “Lass, you can try, but I don't think it'll help.”

 

Thorin's whole body itched by the end of the day. He was anxious. Jumpy. He leaned against the cool stone outside of the doors trying to push it all down.

How many times had he caught himself now? Caught himself yelling. Caught himself talking to himself. Caught himself just silently mesmerized by gold and jewels. And how long did it go on before he noticed and shook himself free? There were long hours missing from his days. And he didn't want anyone to see. He didn't want Bilba to see. He was no good to any of them like this.

He caught himself shaking this evening. Frantic. He had yelled and thrown things. The company rushed over and he had to leave. He left them all standing stunned and confused. Kili looked at him like he were some wounded animal.

He just needed that stone. It called to him and haunted his mind as much in his waking hours as it did in his dreams.

He took a deep breath before he walked into his room. He wouldn't let her see this. Not again. It didn't last but a moment. He saw her and he was lost before he even knew where he was.

When they were together he felt the need to possess her. Keep her. Have her all for himself. Even her time with the company twisted something in him. He knows it shouldn't. It never had before.

This jealousy was never there before.

But...

She was his. He was King of Durin's Folk, and soon he would be crowned King Under the Mountain. And she would be his queen. She may as well be his queen already. She would never leave him. He loved her too fiercely, and she loved him.

His One, his treasure, his jewel whom no one shall touch but him. He deserved this, deserved her.

Thorin was drunk on the idea of her. Every emotion that flickered through him came like a torrent. He was consumed by something he could no longer remember to fear or suppress. His veins ran in silver and gold. His heart was a stone he ached to find again.

His mind was lost.

Bilba had broken at the sight of him that night. Even her anger gave way to her heartbreak. She offered him her arms, and opened her heart, and prayed to the Mother not for help but for strength, because even Yavanna could not help her here. She was losing him. She was going to lose him forever.

She gave herself over willingly thinking it would fill the void in him for a moment, hoping it would return the dwarf who used to yell at her for talking to elves, and for lagging behind when they walked. Who braided her hair while she told stories. Who taught her to dance with a sword. The dwarf who held her hand when she had nightmares, and listened to her crazy ideas for escape.

It didn't work.

Gandalf warned her. Balin, Dwalin... Thorin himself had warned her. There was madness in his blood... and it could not be stopped until he had that stone.

She knew at least some of his thoughts. She'd heard them in one of his crazed ramblings. That he wanted her like he wanted the Arkenstone. Maybe not as badly, but it was still a need in him.

She knew it all, even if it was fueled by madness. She knew.

So she gave her body in hopes it would bring him back. She couldn't lie though. There was some pleasure in what she did. Thorin was a gentle lover who listened to her desires as much as his own, because he still wanted her happiness under all of his lunacy. He still loved her.

It just got twisted somewhere in these caverns.

Even as she fought not to cry, lying there in the dark, she knew.

There was no bringing Thorin back anymore. At least not for very long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 8 and 9 are actually one chapter cut in half. It got very, very long (about 25 pages long) somehow. I do apologize for the delays with this, but you're going to get two chapters for the price of one. Chapter 9 will be posted in a few days.


	9. The Fall (part two): Starlight in the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is under control. Nothing is fine.

When Thorin found himself again the sun had gone and the fire was burned to embers. A touch on the cheek, a hand through his hair. It came like a light in the darkness and he could see again.

The waters receded and he could breathe again.

His hands were weak. His fingers were numb... But he could grasp himself again. For a moment he found himself, found enough scraps of himself to know something was terribly wrong here. He found her in tears.

“What's wrong?” he asked and for a moment he feared she wouldn't answer.

The question hung heavy in the dark and she wiped her eyes. “It's nothing, Thorin.”

“Bilba, please.” _What did he do? What had he said?_

“I'm just scared,” she said softly. She promised herself she would be strong.

He held her close and she tucked her head into his chest. The illusion of his sanity tore her apart, but it gave her comfort as well. All she wanted, all she needed, was just a bit of comfort. She didn't care where it came from.

“Everything will be alright. I will let nothing happen to you. I swear.”

“It's not me I'm worried about.”

His fingers ran gently through her curls, and he hummed a song that filled her heart and lulled her sleep. It was the same song he sang that first night. The song the lulled her into dreams what seemed like years ago.

 

She didn't go down to the treasury that morning.

She wished she could have stayed in her dreams forever, but life had to go on. She woke up, got dressed intending to go with Thorin, but he stopped her. He sat her down in a chair by the fire and couldn't look her in the eyes.

He ran his thumb over her knuckles and looked at her fingers and the calluses there. “I don't want to see you in the treasury again,” he said.

“Why?” She did her best to try and look him in the eyes but he avoided her gaze.

“Manual labor is not suited to you. You need to stop behaving like a common woman and more like the consort of the king that you are.”

She pulled her hand free of his.

“So I'm just to stay up here alone? For hours?” She rose up from the chair and stepped across the room. “No! I am not your consort, Thorin Oakenshield. I may be courting you but I am not your wife!”

He did look her in the eyes then, and they were stormy and bitter. It shook him to his core. She wasn't his consort no matter how much he wanted it. He could demand it, he was king, but he would not take her hostage and marry her against her will. He could... but he wouldn't.

But he could.

“You need to leave, Bilba. Don't let me see where you go.”

“Thorin, please. You're be ridiculous now.” Her voice held a tremor.

“I can't keep stopping myself!” he shouted. “It is more difficult every time!” And that was it. The first time he actually admitted to anyone that he was having trouble. That he was losing it. That he'd lost it already.

She grabbed him, a hand on either cheek. “Look at me. Look at me, Thorin. Why do you think I'm here with you in this room? Why do you think I'm here? Because I love you, and I'm doing my best to keep you here. To keep your mind off of that gold and that stone. Do you understand me?”

“Just because I understand now does not mean I will in an hour or in five minutes!”

“Then tell me what to do to help you,” she pleaded. “Let me help.”

He grabbed her hands and pulled them down, holding them between his own. “You can't help me.”

“Yes, I can. I will find a way.”

He shook his head. “My grandmother could not stop my grandfather, and my mother could not stop my father. What makes you so different?”

She didn't have an answer for him.

“The best thing you can do is stay here.”

“No,” she said and that pushed him over an edge.

“Bilba Baggins you will stay in these rooms! You're not just some halfling anymore, you are bound to me and one of my people, and you will listen to me!”

She pulled away and made an over exaggerated bow. “Oh, well thank you for the honor of being one of your people. Yes, I'm so much better than just some _halfling_ now. Thank you, my lord!” She shoved over the nearest chair and it clattered to the ground. She marched right up into his face. Her finger poked him sharp in the chest. “You listen to me, Thorin! I am not some halfling, do you understand? I am half of nothing!”

“You are nothing without me! You have nothing. No place.” Every letter came laced with poison. Every syllable was designed to hurt. He'd learned how to hurt her a long time ago.

True or not, his words stung. “That is complete drivel,” but there was no conviction in her voice and her hand fell to her side.

His hands were soft as he reached for her, fingers on her neck and thumbs brushing her jawline. He pressed his forehead to her's. “When have I ever lied to you,” he said soft as rain and treacherous as a flood. “You know I'm right.” He let her go and his hands grabbed at air as he lost his temper again. “If I hadn't let you come on this venture you would still be a miserable, old spinster living alone with no future!”

She reeled back and slapped him hard across the face. It echoed off of stone walls. Her fingers burned with pain. “Better a miserable spinster than a mad king who is about to lose everything.”

She staggered backwards, eyes blinded with tears, and shut herself away in a room. She locked the doors and let herself break down.

Thorin left slamming doors, and cursing her name. He didn't go straight to the treasury. Instead of marched the halls too angry to even see where he was going.

 

Fili wasn't happy.

He had a hundred reasons to be unhappy. All of them focused squarely on his uncle, and his management of the situation they were in. Fili had been raised to know that one day he would be king. He could not count the number of times Thorin looked at him, or his mother looked at him, or Balin... and they would say, “One day you will be king and you will understand.” They said it to make him do his studies, to make him behave.

But if what Thorin was doing was kingly then he never wanted a throne. Thorin may have ruled the Blue Mountains, but he was no king today.

Fili slipped into Thorin's rooms after he had gone down to the treasure halls without Bilba, raving mad about something or other. He almost let Kili come with him when he left, but instead he sent him to keep an eye on their uncle, and ran across the mountain.

“Bilba?” he called out as he knocked on a door and craned his neck into the room.

“Yes?” Her voice was hoarse. She'd come out a long time ago, cleaned up, and dried her tears, but not after she had cried herself sore.

He found her at the table with her ration and an unopened book. “Good morning,” Fili said and sat down across from her.

“Morning.”

“Oversleep?” he joked.

The laugh that came out of her way dry and humorless. “Not quite.”

Fili nodded quietly. He must have been making a face because Bilba looked at him with big, sad eyes. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“I should be asking you that question.” The tear stains on her cheeks were hardly unnoticeable.

“Maybe, but I asked first.”

He took a deep breath. “Everything is wrong,” he said and shrugged because there really was nothing to be done. “When I left home I promised my mother I'd keep an eye on Thorin once we got here. She wanted me to do my best to keep him grounded. I don't know how to do it, and I'm sorry because it looks like it's all gotten pushed onto you.”

Bilba opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“You don't have to do this all alone. Tell us what we need to do and we will do it. Just... don't push yourself so hard. You don't have to do anything Thorin tells you. If he gets mad we will stand between you two. He won't hurt you.”

To be honest what he'd meant to say was, “I'm scared as hell. I want you take my brother and run and don't look back.” He couldn't say that though. He wanted to say, “I'm scared and want to go home. I miss my mom.” He couldn't say that either. “I just need someone to hold me and tell me everything will be okay,” but he was not a little boy anymore and he couldn't ask Bilba to step in for his mother.

“I'm not scared of him hurting me.” Why was everyone afraid of that? “Fili, I'm fine. I swear to you that I am fine.” She tried to be fine anyway, but her heart hurt. It had pained her for days without end.

“I came to escort you down, if you want to anyway,” he said.

“Okay. I think that would be good.” At the very least she thought it would spite Thorin and she would like that right now.

Before she could finish her food Coräc came flying in, looking about nervously. He hoped Bilba was there and Thorin was not. Though he had come prepared to wait all day, he was very glad to find her at the table.

“Miss Bilba!”

“Hello,” she smiled.

“I come with news and a letter from a friend of yours, a Mr. Gandalf.”

“Gandalf!” she nearly jumped from her seat. “Where did you see him!?”  
“He arrived just yesterday and is with Master Bard and King Thranduil. I warned them as you said, and met with the wizard.”

“He's well then?”

“Yes ma'am. I was to tell you that they shall arrive in two days, and the three will come to speak.”

She didn't hide her unease. “I'm not sure Thorin should. He's... not well.”

Coräc cocked his head to the side, “Someone must come to speak on your behalf. If a negotiation cannot be reached they say they will starve you out. I don't wish to see this.”

Bilba nodded. “Nor do I.”

“Whether it's for the best or not, Thorin will be there. There would be no stopping him from shouting at the elf,” Fili said. “Balin should be the one to negotiate.”

Bilba agreed.

Coräc motioned to the letter tied to his leg and Bilba reached out to untie it. “Mr. Gandalf was very adamant I bring you this letter. You should probably read it now. He expects a reply and I must take it to him as soon as possible. I fear I will not be able to return here for several days.”

Bilba looked up as she unfolded the page. “Why? What's happened?”

“Mr. Gandalf has a job for me that I must see to as soon as I can.”

She nodded. Her breakfast was only half finished. “If you're hungry, you can have what's left.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

He nibbled at the bread as Bilba read the note.

 

_Bilba, I have learned much of what has happened on your quest since I left you. I am attempting to reach agreements between the men and elves regarding the matter of the orcs. I have heard Dain is coming as well, though I know not how many he brings. We must see that all three forces ally to face this threat._

_Please provide me with any information if you can. Also, I must ask how Thorin is faring in the mountain._

_I hope that you are well. I will see you soon, my friend._

 

She flexed her fingers gently at the table. Her hand had taken more damage than Thorin's face, and her fingers were still a touch sore. She bit her lip as she scrawled her reply.

“What's wrong with your hand?”

She shook her head gently, and tied the letter to Coräc's leg. “I did something rather stupid,” she said. “I may have slapped Thorin pretty hard. Almost as bad as hitting a stone wall,” she joked. Her weak laughed died off and ended in a sigh. “I shouldn't have done that, but he can be so, so! He can just be so frustrating. But it wasn't right to hit him.”

“What did he do?”

“He just said some not so nice things. I should have understood he didn't mean them, given the state he's in. I just got caught up in the moment.”

Bilba sent Coräc on his way with a kiss on his head and wishes of good luck.

Fili knew she wouldn't repeat what he'd said so he didn't even bother asking even though he wanted nothing more. He read over the letter. “Dain isn't going to like this. He's marched the intention of fighting the elves.”

“I know,” she said.

“I mean Balin will have to write and tell him. He should be able to convince him, it's just... I don't really know Dain that well. I don't know how well this is going to work.”

She sagged into her chair. “We've got to make it work if we want a chance of making it out of this alive.”

Fili ran his hands through his hair. “Bilba, we both know that Thorin won't let Balin negotiate with them. He'll want to be in charge. I don't know how we're going to do this.”

She thought about it for a moment. “Balin's been the one sending the letters to Dain. We'll just tell Dain when he arrives that we've already allied. He'll be on their side and Thorin won't know.”

Kili had come up the hall fuming after he'd spent only a few minutes with Thorin. If he stayed any longer he was going to break something, possibly a bone. Or two. A sharp knock was all that announced him as he came marching into the room.

“But if Thorin pisses them off before Dain gets here,” Fili's head shot up as his brother come in and dropped into a chair next to Bilba. “Kili?” he gave him a look only an annoyed older sibling could give and shook his head. “Who is to say they'll trust him. Thorin is still Dain's king. How are Bard and the elf even going to know we've allied?”

Kili looked around rather confused. Had he just missed something important?

Bilba straightened her back and held her chin high. “I'll go. I'll talk to them before they even get a chance to talk to Thorin. I'll explain what's going on.” She pointed a finger at Kili, “And you won't mention to anyone what we've said.”

“Thorin won't let you go,” Fili told her.

“I'll talk to him. If he says no... I'll just have to sneak away, won't I. I don't want to go behind his back, but if I have to I will.”

Kili looked between the two and was entirely lost. “What are we planning?”

 

Fili and Kili went to Balin and Bilba went into the treasury with the intention of talking to Thorin. He had calmed down. He even smiled when he saw her, like he'd forgotten the morning had even happened. And perhaps he had.

The moment the idea of siding anyone left her mouth he turned away and completely ignored her.

She was not going to take that. She would not let him give her the cold shoulder and damn them all. She had contained her anger for too long. She wasn't going to hold herself back anymore. She grabbed Thorin by the arm and pulled him out of the treasury while screaming at him. She called him several curses she knew in the common tongue and even ones she knew in elvish just to annoy him that extra little bit, because she was too pissed off to stop herself.

Dwalin ran to follow, ready to stand between them. A harsh look kept anyone else from following them into the hall. Gloin stood at the door like a guard keeping everyone, especially Fili, Kili and Bofur, back. That isn't to say that the others weren't trying to get by as well.

“We need help!” she shouted and it rang through the mountain.

“We have Dain. We don't need them.”

“And what if he doesn't make it in time! Thorin we can't just lie all our hopes on his army when we don't know how far away he is! The orcs are only days away! That doesn't even consider that we could be stormed by elves and men at any time! Have you even looked outside! They will be here in two days! We need help! Let me go and talk to them!” she pleaded.

“No. We do not need any of them. You will stay here!”

“Don't you fight about this with me,” she begged. “Don't you dare! Don't fight with me about this! I'm trying to save you. Trust me! Just trust me! I can do this!”

“You are not to leave this mountain! That is an order!” he roared “Do you understand me, burglar? I am the head of this company.”

She shook with anger.

“We. Need. Allies. I have always come through for you!” she shouted in his face.

“No. You are staying here. This discussion is over.” He stormed past her. As he left he said something to Dwalin and threw a finger back at her.

She balled up her fists and after a moment of seething stomped after him. “Thorin!”

Dwalin stopped her with a hand. “Let it lie, lass.”

“No. Now if you'll excuse me,” she ducked past and he caught her arm.

“You really need to let this one go for your own sake. He's told me to watch you, but right now I'm more concerned about him. He's not acting right.”

“Oh, believe me, I've seen how he acts.” She was still too angry to want to talk about it. She jerked her arm free, but stood next to him with her arms folded tightly over her chest.

“Let him calm down before you speak to him again,” he advised.

She glared down the hall.

“Once we find the Arkenstone,” he said, “Everything will work out. It'll put an end to this... mood of his.”

 

The moment she came back into the treasury alone the company flocked closer, expecting some kind of information, but Bilba was quietly seething. A sharp cough from Dwalin about twenty minutes later announced Thorin's return and they dispersed into the room. Gloin and Bofur were dead center, up on small mound of gold, directing them this way and that. It was almost as if they were making a wall between them.

The whole company was on edge, their eyes always looking to their leader. Always watching as he fell, unsure if was merely his judgment or if it was him that made them grow uneasy. They had looked instead to Balin for guidance these days. And, for some reason she wouldn't understand, they looked to Bilba for hope.

They clung to her claims that she would be fine, that they all would be fine. They had this idea that she was in some way going to reverse the spell this gold had on Thorin.

 

Balin came to see Bilba that afternoon, after he'd sent Roäc with another letter. He had to send Fili away so they speak privately. Fili didn't go before he gave her something though. He unstrapped one of his knives and give to her. “I know you have your sword, but I want you to keep this too. It's small, but it should be good enough. You strap it just below the knee. Your skirts are long enough to cover it.” He smiled as he made sure she had it fixed right. “It's always good to have at least one hidden blade, just in case.”

Balin silently approved of the knife as he sent Fili away. He wanted to talk more about sending Bilba away, but she shook her head and argued with him about it.

“Lass, please. No one wants to see you hurt again. Knowing that the dragon hurt you is enough. If anything else happened, well I don't know what we'd do but it wouldn't be good.”

She pushed aside another pile of gold with a huff. “Balin, I feel the same about all of you. You can't expect me to leave. Look, I said I'd compromise. I will stay with Oin as a medic, but I will not leave the fight.”

“You don't understand, Bilba. You're not just a member of this company right now, you're-”

“Stop! Don't finish that sentence. Balin, no one else is going to say what I am and what I am not.” Once from Thorin had been quite enough for her. “I am three things,” she said and started to tick them off on her fingers. “I am a hobbit, and I am a member of the company. Nothing more or less. And I am fine. If one more bloody one of you asks if I'm fine I will have a fit. I'm tired of having to say that I'm okay. I'm tired of people trying to tiptoe around and assess me. Do you think I don't see it? You all think I'm this fragile woman who Thorin is going to break. All of you seem to think I should be afraid of him. I'm not scared of Thorin.” She threw a finger towards the door. “I am scared of Azog and orcs and wargs. I'm scared of goblins and dragons and trolls and giant, awful spiders! Do not make me be afraid of one of the few things I have left to feel safe around!” When she stopped she was out of breath. She held up her hands and hung her head. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off on a rant. It's been a very trying day.”

“Oh, lass. You have more place than anyone to be upset. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry.” He shook his head and smiled. “I only wanted to say you give them courage, Bilba.”

She sighed and pushed away more gold. “Look, that's very flattering... but...” Bilba's words caught in her throat thick as honey as she moved another bit of gold aside. It looked like captured starlight and almost too lovely to touch. Balin looked like his heart had stopped dead in his chest, and his mouth hung open.

There was no doubting it. It fit cupped in both her hands and shone with a light that seemed to be all it's own.

The Arkenstone.

The Heart of the Mountain.

She opened her mouth to call Thorin, but his name died on her lips.

She looked up and caught Balin's gaze, her eyes big and full of... well, full of fear and excitement all at once. His eyes were terrified. He scrabbled closer and dropped to his knees.

“Bilba,” he whispered. He had but a moment to make his decision. And wise or foolish, he quickly took off his coat and threw it over the stone and wrapped it up tight.

He looked from it, to her, and out into the gold where no one was around. He swallowed hard. “We can't risk it.”

“Risk what? We need to give it to Thorin.” She furrowed her eyebrows, utterly at a loss.

“I don't know if that would be for the best right now.”

“It could make him better!” she wanted to shout but kept it contained. “Balin!” she hissed.

“Or it could cement this madness.” That had been his worry since this all started. Not just here but all the way back in Ered Luin, back when he did not know what to expect when they got to Erebor. And he never expected it to be this bad.

Bilba's heart clenched. If he had the stone there really was no guarantee this would all stop. It hadn't been just the stone, had it? It had been the gold too. “Then what do we do?”

Her hands shook. She wanted to give it to Thorin, wanted to see this illness fall away like magic and see his eyes that cloudless blue she remembered.

“We wait. We... we try to decide of giving it back will help or hurt.”

“How do we do that?” she said, wrestling with the urge to call Thorin. “Balin, he's wanted this stone since you lost Erebor.”

“And even in his deepest madness I did not fear Thror. We wait. We wait for the right moment and then we give it to him. After... after this battle is settled would be best. There are only so many thing we can handle at once.”

She gently reached out and took the stone, still wrapped in his coat, and cradled it to her chest. She looked around, slowly rose, and though everything in her wanted to find Thorin she nodded once, sharply. “Then where do we hide it?”

 

Dwalin hadn't overheard them. If he had he would have gone straight to Thorin without thinking about it. No. He did see Bilba leaving with Balin, and he had his orders to keep track her, so he followed them down dark halls and lingered in the shadows when they disappeared into a small store room and soon after reappeared.

It was a job he thought was much better suited to Nori, sneaky crook that he was. He would have told Thorin that too, if his friend seemed even close to sound of mind.

One of the few people he would still talk to for any length of time was Dwalin, and he said some frightening things. He had a complete disregard for the oncoming fight, and too much faith in Dain. The same dwarf who denied him even a small band of soldiers not even a year ago. Dwalin didn't particularly dislike Dain, but they weren't exactly friends.

Thorin was also obsessed not only with finding the Arkenstone but with Bilba Baggins. He spoke too freely and intimately of her. It made him want to gag. They hadn't been courting a full two weeks and he'd already heard Thorin speak of wanting her as queen. Wanting children. He'd never wanted a child in all his life. He never wanted to pass down his sickness. He wanted it to die with him, and pass the throne to his nephew who never once showed any sign of gold lust.

It made Dwalin want to hit him. To forcibly knock sense back into his thick skull.

She deserved better than to endure the way he was acting. She deserved him at his best. He was a better king than his father had been, and better than his grandfather. He was beloved by his people. That is who she should have.

 

He trailed them down the halls and stood against a pillar as Bilba stopped and threw her hands up and growled in frustration.

“I don't know that you should go,” Balin warned.

“Well, I've got to do something. I can't just sit here and be expected to let two armies converge on us with a third on the way!” Bilba cried.

“What can you do? We are but fourteen.” Balin said.

“I'm going to talk to them! I can try! I don't care what Thorin says. I will convince them! You already wrote Dain, right?”

“Yes, and I said an alignment looked hopeful, but I didn't say it was something for certain yet.”

“That's why I have to go.”

Balin shook his head. “Thorin will know in a heartbeat.” He sighed and grabbed her by the shoulders so she would have to listen carefully. “Bilba, after your fight he had me set a watch schedule. They're supposed to tell him the moment Bard arrives, but also if they see you trying to leave.”

“I have my ring.”

Dwalin frowned and crossed his arms over his chest _._

“What if they don't listen. What if they take you hostage?” he said.

“Fili told you, right? Gandalf is down there! He would never let anything like that happen to me. I will go straight to him,” Bilba said. “And from there I will meet with Bard and Thranduil. Because regardless of their hate for us right now, there is an army of orcs coming that could decimate both of them combined. But the three of us, them and Dain's army, we could pull this off!” Bilba said. She knew they could. They had to.

Balin was rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “We haven't got much other choice, lass. I can't sit by and watch everyone be driven into the ground over one stubborn child.”

Bilba was pacing. “I am trying so hard here, Balin. I can't do anything to help Thorin anymore. He's just getting worse and worse. This is all I can do right now to help all of you.”

“I'm worried, lass. I'm worried for you right now.”

“Just help me out of the mountain,” she said. “Don't let him know. Make sure he stays occupied until I get back.”

“I'll do everything I can.”

Dwalin recognized her strength long ago, when she stood face to face with Azog, though he still doesn't quite understand it. She does so much and he just doesn't understand. She is more courageous every chance she has to show it. Here they are, a group of warriors. They should keep _her_ safe. Here a lone woman protects the lives of thirteen dwarves. Young fighters, and veterans of war. She stands for them like their guardian, as if she were sent by Mahal.

He does not know much of hobbits besides Bilba, so he isn't sure if this is typical if them. He doesn't understand why one woman, so small, would care so much for people not her own. But that's why he called her family. He would do all he could for her. He would protect that sacrifice and love with his life. She was owed it. He'd do what he could.

“I can distract him,” came a voice from the shadows as Dwalin stepped out. Bilba jumped out of her skin and her eyes were wide as saucers. “I'll bar the doors if I must, but I'll get you your time.”

Bilba's shoulders fell with relief. “Thank you.” She wrapped him in a tight hug. “How... how long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know that right now you are our best option to avoid a slaughter.”

“We'll need a plan then,” Balin said. “You'll need something to say to Thranduil. Get him on your side. He won't believe any promise you make.”

“We have time to plan,” Dwalin said. “They won't come to parley a while still.”

“Aye. I'll think on it. I'll come for you later tonight,” Balin told her.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Thorin'll likely be done searching soon,” Dwalin said.

Bilba sighed heavily. “I know. I'll go and meet him. He's always the most himself after he first comes out... though he's probably quite mad with me today.”

“He's not done anything untoward?” Dwalin asked. Balin raised a bushy eyebrow, and watched Bilba closely.

“No? No, he...” but she trailed off. Because it was a lie. “He hasn't hurt me, if that's what you're asking. He'd never hurt me.”

They just nodded quietly. “Let's walk then, lass,” Dwalin said.

“I'll come for you later,” Balin said.

In the hall, where they were alone from all ears, he looked at her. “You hesitated.”

“What?”

“When I asked if he'd done anything. You hesitated.” His voice was dead serious. It was edged in ice and steel and she clutched her hands beneath her throat and swallowed hard.

“He hasn't hurt me. I didn't lie.”

“But he did something.”

She put on another smile. Something fake and gilded. “What he did isn't something... He didn't hurt me.” She clung to that. It was all she knew to say. There was no physical pain, the only hurt was in her heart. “Just some things he said,” she said with an assuring nod. “Just words. It's nothing I can't handle.”

“If he does anything, you _will_ tell me.”

She nodded silently and Dwalin did his best not to let his imagination run, and to resist the urge to yell until Bilba told him everything.

 

Fili and Kili were there when Bilba met Thorin at the end of the day, his eyes soft and his words apologetic. She nodded and left with him.

She told them everything would be okay.

They weren't sure they believed it anymore.

Thorin acted as if they hadn't had two explosive arguments that day, and Bilba didn't know if it was Thorin forgetting or trying to play nice. She took what she could get though, and did her best to play nice too.

They were lying in bed when Balin knocked. “Enter,” Thorin said and Bilba buried herself in blankets.

“You could at least wait until I'm decent!” she smacked his arm and glared. She may not have been naked, but she was certainly not dressed enough for anyone to see her.

He winced. He was forgetting himself again. “Step out for a moment,” he called.

Balin did as he was told and Bilba started to pull on her clothes.

“I am sorry, mizim. I wasn't thinking.”

She shrugged. “It's alright. We all forget sometimes. Okay, I'm dressed.” She sat back down.

“Come in,” he called and Balin slipped into the room.

“Sorry to bother you, but we need Bilba for a little bit.”

“Why?” he asked. She hoped Balin had a good excuse.

“Oin's ready to see her. He's been searching for good herbs and the ravens were able to bring what he needed.”

“Herbs,” he turned to her. “Are you sick?” he gripped her hand and she faked a smile.

“It's all the dust,” she waved a hand. “Just a bit of a sore throat. Nothing some herbal tea won't fix. Oin just wants to be thorough. You know how he is.”

Thorin nodded and had to bite back a yawn.

“You stay here. Sleep. You've not been sleeping well. Should I get Oin to make you something to help?”

“No. I'll be fine,” he said.

“Okay,” she said softly. He kissed her hand before she left. Had he not been so tired he might have insisted on going with her, but for tonight at least luck was on her side.

 

In a meeting chamber a few halls over Balin slouched into a chair. “We have searched for hours for Thranduil's jewels and we've not found them,” he said with a tired voice.

“His jewels?” she asked as she sat down.

Balin nodded. “He has a set of white jewels. Or jewels that should have been his. He'll want them. That would be your bargaining chip, but with the sheer volume we have to look though it is a fool's hope that we will find them. But we'll search through the day tomorrow. Some of the boys are taking shifts to look tonight, though they don't know why I'm asking for them.”

“Okay. What's our plan if you can't find them?”

“I don't know, Bilba.”

She bit her lip. “I've been thinking. If Thorin won't pay then I will. I'll give Bard my gold. I don't need it. If I filled my pockets once I would live well for the rest of my life.”

“Bilba...”

“They need it! Their homes were destroyed because I was foolish. They died.” She ground her teeth. “And I will pay Thranduil too for his help. I'm sure I have enough.”

“Even if you promise Bard your gold and he agrees to fight with us, Thranduil is not so easily swayed. It may be yours to give, but Thorin may not let you do it and he knows this. He might convince Bard to go against you. He knows Thorin, Bilba. He may have only been a boy then, but he was just as stubborn as he is now. And he know the sickness that runs in Thorin's line.”

“We have the Arkenstone,” she said just above a whisper, as if she'd be caught. “We can use that. If he won't believe that I'll give up my gold, then he'll believe I'll trade my gold for it's return. Thorin would have to let me do that.”

Balin had his head in his hands. “It's too risky. Thorin will find out. We'll find you something else before they get here. The most valuable thing we can.”

“Do you have any single thing in this mountain worth that much gold?”

He sighed. “No. We'll search for those gems. You just let me worry about this.”

 

They didn't find the jewels, or anything else Balin deemed worth enough gold. So Bilba stuffed the stone in her pocket and met him and Dwalin near the main gates early in the morning. The sky was pink and gold, but gray clouds still lingered overhead. The armies had only just arrived and were setting up camp.

“He only just went into to the treasury. If you're going, you'd best go now,” Dwalin said. “Bombur and Nori have watch,” he said and pointed up to a balcony where they were probably asleep. “Just wear that ring and be quick. Their watch will be up in an hour. Balin, you pick someone and take watch with them. I'll make sure he stays down there, though I doubt he'll leave anyway.”

She nodded quickly, and started away at a jog. “Send a raven if anything goes wrong.”

“Be safe,” Balin called as she slipped into the thin air.

Dwalin took a deep breath and watched the distance where he thought she was. “I don't remember my years in Erebor well. Was Thror this bad back then?”

“That's a complicated question, brother. He was not that unlike you remember him. He controlled himself. Thror was content to be with his gold. He was mad, but he was generally reasonable,” Balin said. “Though his greed likely brought the dragon and started all of this. Thorin is completely manic and irrational.” Balin sighed. “If Thror were here now I think he'd be acting the same way with the Arkenstone missing.”

Dwalin nodded, taking in the information. It was more or less what he expected to hear. He still had things he didn't understand though. “Why is she doing this?” he asked.

“Because she cares him, and she cares us. She's a good soul. We must give her the same trust and loyalty she has given us all this time. She's watched over us, now it's our turn.”

“I fear for her,” Dwalin said. “When Thorin finds out what happened, and he will find out, I don't know what he'll do.”

“Nor do I.” The words came out haunted and heavier than stone when the implication truly began to hit him. She'd just taken the Arkenstone. Thorin wasn't just just going to be angry. He was going to actually try to hurt her. He was going _kill_ her.

What had he just allowed her to do!?

“We protect her.” Dwalin folded his arms and looked at his brother.

Balin nodded. “With our lives.”


	10. The Banishment of Bilba Baggins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time he told Bilba Baggins that he loved her it was in the past tense.

It wasn't exactly hard to find Gandalf. His hat stuck out like a sore thumb above the heads of men and elves. He was standing near the edge of the rising tents, looking out at Erebor. It seemed like he had been waiting for her, and maybe he was. Wizards were like that, she supposed. She paused a few feet in front of him and slipped off her ring.

The look on his face was one she doesn't think she will ever forget. It wasn't everyday a hobbit made a wizard gasp in surprise.

“Bilba Baggins! What in the world!?”

“I've come to negotiate,” she said as she slipped her ring into her pocket. She didn't give him the moment to ask about. “I need to speak with Bard or whoever is in charge quickly.” Her bargaining chip weighed heavily in her pocket. She wouldn't give it up unless she needed to. If she could convince Thranduil without it, she would take it back and hide it away again.

Gandalf stroked his beard and nodded gravely. Now was not the time to question her strange appearance. “Then come with me.” He led her through groups of grumbling soldiers and stoic elven archers. “It is good to see you,” he said. “Are you well?”

She nodded. “Well enough, all things considered. You got my letter about Thorin, I take it.”

“Yes, it is most troubling, but not entirely a surprise. I think it best we not speak of this in public,” he said looking around. He led her to a large, empty tent with a table covered in maps. “I assume you have a plan,” Gandalf said.

She nodded nervously. “Yes, more or less. I have gold for Bard, and I'll do whatever I need to get Thranduil to agree. I haven't got a lot of time though. Most of the company don't know I've gone.”

“Alright then. Now, Bilba, I would ask you say nothing of Thorin's state. Or your involvement as a burglar.” He looked her over and gave her a fond smile. “You'll do well enough.” Then he laughed softly to himself. “You Baggins' have always been level-headed. If your grandfather or mother were in your place now I'd likely have to tell them to shut up and say nothing, but I believe you'll do just fine.”

He gave her a pat on the shoulder before he left to call a meeting with Bard, two other men, Thranduil, Legolas, and the captain of the Mirkwood guard. She did not miss the fact that Orcrist was strapped to Thranduil's hip.

Gandalf sat beside Bilba at the great table, with Tauriel to her other side. Gandalf smiled at everyone assembled. “Allow me first to introduce Miss Bilba Baggins, who has called us all together today.” He looked down at her, nodding that she should be the one to start this meeting.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all for meeting with me. I come on behalf of Thorin,” she said.

“And who exactly are you?” the elf king asked.

“I've seen her before,” Bard said. “She is his companion.”

“As I recall he traveled only with dwarves,” Thranduil said. Both Legolas and Tauriel agreed with him.

Bilba nodded. “And one hobbit,” she said. “We are... experts at being unseen when we need to be.”

The elf king gave her a curious look, but did not speak again. He was smart enough not to have to ask if she had been their escapist in his dungeons.

“As I was saying, I've come on behalf of Thorin and my company to see if we can make a deal. The orcs are marching this way, as you know. They are too much for you both to handle.” She looked between the both of them. “Coräc did tell you the numbers, yes?”

She waited for nods of acknowledgment. Bard looked at her. “You sent the raven?”

“Yes, I did.”

Bard nodded then. “He was a skittish thing, but yes, he brought us your messages. We thank you for your warning. We have had the time to move our woman and children away from the area.” What he didn't say was that the Master also had fled like a coward to hide under the guise of protecting his citizens.

Bilba let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. “That's great. Excellent. Oh, I'm so glad.”

Gandalf coughed once and Bilba nearly jumped. Yes, she was getting off track. She only had so much time. “Thorin's cousin, well, I believe it is his cousin,” she was nervous and rambling. Gandalf's hand on her shoulder calmed her. “Dain is marching with an army. Originally they came under the idea they would be defending Erebor from you. That was before the orcs. Now he has been convinced to side with you. We need to unite to defeat the orcs. And I would like to find a way to make this alliance more permanent. I do not wish to see the dwarves turned on once the orcs are dead. I know you plan to starve us out if we don't pay you.” She took a few deep breaths as she got her nerves under control.

Bard frowned. “I would prefer to see no bloodshed. While this is not ideal, it is what I planned. Seeing as you have come to negotiate, I believe a siege can be avoided.”

“I hope so,” she said and smiled at him.

“We do need help,” he said, “And I would like to avoid fighting with the dwarves, but Thorin must reimburse the damages the dragon brought. I warned you both not to enter that mountain.”

“I know. And he should pay you, I agree,” she said. “You killed Smaug. You are owed a reward, and we owe your people. There was a thrush sent after the attack. Thorin said he would speak with you if you came without your army. And while I don't quite understand why two armies are needed to speak with thirteen dwarves, right now even I can ignore that. A lot has changed since we sent that message,” she said. “That's why I'm here.” She nodded mostly to herself, and kept her hands under the table so no one would see her fidgeting. “With the mountain reclaimed my contract says I am entitled to one fourteenth of Erebor's treasure. I have been to the treasury. It is enough gold to rebuilt the lake town and Dale with more left over. I will give it to you.”

“Why?”

The question caught her off guard. “Because you need it and I don't.”

“This is an absurd amount of money you're talking about.”

Gandalf chuckled. “Bard, I take it you have never heard of hobbits before. Even if you had, most people know surprising little of their ways. They are quite simple folk.”

Bilba snorted.

“Perhaps simple is a bad term.”

“We have no need for things like jewels and large amounts of gold,” she said. “Sure a ruby might be nice to look at but at the end of the day I'd much rather have a nice baked potato.”

Gandalf laughed.

Thranduil didn't care much for the lighthearted banter. “What proof do you have?” he asked. “What proof that your word is true. You say you are here to speak for Thorin, but I doubt Thorin has agreed to any of this.”

She took a deep breath. “He has not. Still, that treasure is mine. I will split it between both of you if I must.”

“I only desire one thing in that mountain.”

Bilba nodded. “Yes, I know. I was told about a set of jewelry. I am allowed to choose my own fourteenth of treasure. I’ll see if I can find it.”

He looked her over. “We have no proof that Thorin will not revoke your share. I know what gold sickness does to his line, and I do not doubt it took over his mind the moment he set foot in Erebor. Nor do I particularly trust a spy who snuck through my kingdom for an untold amount of time.”

She winced.

“We shall speak with Thorin," Thranduil said. “Unless I have some proof I am considering this meeting over.”

He started to rise from the table and Bilba shot out a hand. “Wait!” she said. “This meeting is not over!” Her hand hit the table and Thranduil's eyes shot back to her. Slowly he sat back down. Even Legolas didn't expect his father to sit back down.

Gandalf had to fight to contain a smirk.

Bilba fingered the jewel in her pocket. If she went back, Thorin would never allow her away again. And who knows, maybe he would revoke her contract.

“King you may be, but at this table we sit as equals. We all three speak for our people on equal footing. You cannot dismiss this meeting. Now, you will sit here and we will discuss what will suffice as proof.” It was almost like dealing with Lobelia, and it somewhat calmed her to think of it that way.

He huffed and folded his hands in front of himself. “Miss Baggins, you have nothing that could suffice. Unless you can bring us the gold now, I have nothing more to say.”

“Thranduil, you are being unreasonable,” Bard said giving him a dirty look. “I am inclined to side with Miss Baggins, and as my ally it is your duty to assist when we are attacked.”

“The orcs come for Thorin.”

“And they will march through my home to get to him.”

“Where shall the orcs go next?” Gandalf asked. “They have come into your forest once already in these past weeks. They don't fear to challenge you.”

“They are being dealt with,” he said sharply.

“What would be proof enough?” Bilba asked.

“There is nothing I know of.”

She put her hand around the stone in her pocket. “I believe I know of one thing.” She slowly pulled free the Arkenstone and laid it on the table, but did not move away her hand. “The Arkenstone,” she said. “He will trade my share of the treasure for it's return.”

“Bilba,” Gandalf said in a low tone, but she shook her head.

“We need allies. You need allies. And Thorin wants this stone. One fourteenth of the treasure is a fair price. Can we agree to that? You will ask no more than that.”

Thranduil's eyes were on the gem as he nodded. It shone like captured moonlight and snow frosted stars.

Bard looked between them both. “It is agreeable. But I don't know how our treaty will fair after the battle. That depends on Thorin.”

“That,” Gandalf said, “Can be discussed when there is not an army marching our direction.”

Bilba picked up the stone. “Then I will trust Bard with the stone. He is owed the greatest share of treasure.” She looked at him and cracked a smile. “You did slay the dragon, after all. I trust you.”

He nodded. “And I thank you for that trust, Miss Baggins. I will make sure it is kept safe.”

“Good,” she said clapping her hands together. “This is good. So, we have an alliance then between our three armies.”

“Yes,” Bard said.

Thranduil nodded. “Yes, Miss Baggins, we have an alliance for now, assuming that Dain is indeed on our side.”

“He is. The whole situation has been explained to him. Even if Thorin argues against this he will stay with you.” She hoped he would stay with them. Balin had explained everything. Dain would understand... probably. She didn't know him, but Balin made him sound reasonable.

Thranduil made a low hum, trying to discern the situation Bilba was hiding from him. Bard didn't seem to care. Suddenly being thrust from a captain of the soldiers to someone they had declared a hero and a king was too much stress. He was ready to accept help from anyone.

Bilba drew in a breath. “I would like a token of good faith as well. I've just promised you both a rather insane amount of gold and left you the Arkenstone.”

“We don't have much to offer,” Bard said.

She looked straight at Thranduil. “Their weapons were taken in Mirkwood. I want them returned.”

“It would take days to go and gather them,” Thranduil said, slightly annoyed.

“You have Orcrist,” she pointed to his side. “Return it.”

Thranduil's jaw set, but Bard gave him a hard look. “Give her the sword.”

“A sword Thorin stole,” Legolas interjected.

“As stubborn and stupid as Thorin may be, he did not steal that sword,” Gandalf said. “I gave it to him quite a long time ago.”

“I'll return it myself then,” the king said.

Bilba wanted to say no and demand he give her the sword, but a look from Gandalf shut her up. “I think that will be alright,” the wizard said. “After all we must still meet with Thorin before the day is done.”

“What! Why?”

“While we have settled on an alliance, we must still inform Thorin face to face,” Bard said. “We will take no soldiers. Only Thranduil, Gandalf, and I will go.”

She bit her lip. “Can't I just tell him?”

“Is there a problem here?” Thranduil asked.

“No,” Gandalf assured him. “Bilba just does not know much about the formalities required of alliances and war. We won't stay long. The longer we speak to him, the more I fear he will argue with us. We shall simply state our allegiance, have the sword presented, and be on our way.”

“A-alright.”

Gandalf smiled, bright as ever. “Well, good. Now that all this is settled we should probably get Miss Baggins here back to Erebor post haste. She needs to relay this information to her company.”

She stood up and brushed off her skirts. To anyone around she looked at first glance no more than a child. If you asked her she was nothing truly special. She may have known kings and wizards and all manner of dwarves, lords and princes, but she was just a hobbit at the end of the day.

Bilba Baggins was not a queen, nor was she a princess. She may have been granddaughter of the Thain, but that didn't mean a thing. She was respectable, but when it came down to it she was no better than her neighbors.

But if you were to ask any man or elf sitting at that table she handled herself as well as any of them, even better. Thranduil would even secretly agree. She had no training but her good Shire manners and her mother's occasional sour temper.

She would do anything for her family, even become a true thief.

She would sacrifice love for her family. She would lose Thorin's trust and affection. She would do it every single time.

She grew up and grew old without love and she could continue on without it if she had too. She didn't want to... but if it must be done, then so be it.

 

Gandalf walked her to the edge of camp. “He does not know it has been found?”

“No. He'd absolutely never let me take it. Never,” she shook her head. “He looks all day. When he doesn't look for it he... he's often with me.”

“You?”

She nodded. “He's sick. He's very sick. It scares me sometimes. It's been getting worse and worse, Gandalf.” She wore her pain on her face for all the world to see. “Isn't there anything you can do?”

He didn't want to see her hurt further but he had to tell her, “No. There is nothing. We must wait for this to end on it's own.”

She nodded weakly. It was more or less what she expected, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow.

“Bilba,” he started and led her along to sit on a large rock outside of camp. “May I ask something?”

“Sure.”

“These beads you're wearing, are they Thorin's?”

“They are.”

“Did he give them after he was sick?” he asked wearily.

“No. It was before,” she said, but she couldn't quite bring herself to smile now. “That, at least, was not fueled by this madness that's come over him. I tried so hard,” she said and tears choked her. “And I will keep trying, but I've already failed, Gandalf. What should I do? I... I love him. I cannot watch him lose himself after coming so far.”

Gandalf sighed. He wondered if maybe he should have foreseen this turn of events. When he left them they had a budding friendship. He never expected her to fall in love, nor for Thorin to reciprocate.

“My answer would not be helpful,” he said.

“What would you suggest?”

“Leave now, before this battle begins. Return only once this fighting is done.”

She frowned and looked on with tired eyes. “I can't do that.”

“I know. All the same, right now I fear to let you go back to that mountain. I would like you to stay here.”

“I'll be perfectly fine.” She knew that. She believed that just as she believe the sky was blue and the grass green.

Gandalf nodded. “If he were himself I would trust that, but he is not. You've said that yourself.”

Bilba sighed heavily. She knew that when he learned what happened, and she knew it was inevitable, it would hurt him. She prayed he would understand.

“Did I do the right thing?” she asked before she left him behind.

“I think under these circumstance you have. Be safe,” he said.

“I will.”

She slipped on her ring but a moment before she took it off again. “Gandalf!” she called back. “Coräc said you sent him on a mission. What was it, may I ask?”

He smiled. “That raven is quite fond of you,” he said. “He was most willing to help me on your behalf. Five thousand orcs are a lot. I have a few friends who may be willing to lend us a hand. Coräc has gone to a meeting with them.”

“And who are they?”

“A few mutual acquaintances. Now, off you go. And be very careful, my dear Bilba. We will be coming in a few hours.”

 

“Bofur,” Balin said coming up behind the dwarf in the treasury. “We've got watch duty.”

“Oh? I thought I was scheduled for tonight.”

Balin nodded. “You were, but there's been a bit of a change. Apologies.” The original two planned had been Oin and Bifur, and he isn't quite sure who decided on that great pair.

“It's no worry at all,” he said following the older dwarf away. “To be honest I'm glad to be out of that room.”

As Bofur started up the stairs towards to balconies Balin caught him by the arm. “I think I'd like to sit somewhere else to keep watch, if it's all the same. I've already relieved Nori and Bombur.”

Bofur just shrugged and fell into step beside Balin.

“It's a bit less windy by the front gate,” he said. “I wouldn't mind a smoke. How about you?”

Bofur's smile brightened. “Wouldn't mind one at all.”

“Excellent.”

They were blowing smoke rings when Bilba came back with a lighter pocket and a heavier heart. She rubbed her ring on her finger before letting out a little cough and slipping it off. Balin didn't start, but Bofur nearly jumped out of his boots.

“Bilba! On my mother's beard!” he said, clutching at his heart. “You nearly gave us a heart attack. What are you doing?”

She smiled. “They're with us,” she said to Balin. “I made the deal. They're with us.”

“And who has it?” he asked.

“Bard. I trust him,” she said. Balin wasn't so sure of his stance on the man, but it was better than Thranduil having it. Bofur was just confused. She smiled reassuringly at him. “Don't mention I was gone to anyone.”

“I wouldn't dare, lass. What's going on?”

She pointed out to the tents. “Those are our allies.”

“How did you manage that?”

“With diplomacy.” She wrung her hands, “Where is Roäc? We need to send that letter to Dain.”

“You let me worry about the raven. Go and see if Thorin is still in the treasury.”

She nodded and went off.

“Balin, what is going on?” Bofur asked.

“We're trying to avoid one war and win another.”

“By sneaking around? This all sounds a little...”

Balin shook his head and finished his thought for him. “Treasonous? Let me tell you something, lad. I've been trained to advise since I was a boy, and I've been advising Thorin since before Azanulbizar. If there is one thing I know it is how to go to war.”

 

Dwalin was at the doors, tapping his fingers against the wall.

“He's not been out?” she asked as she came up.

“Briefly for a piss. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. How'd it go?”

“Great. They'll stand with us.”

He nodded. “Good girl. And Dain?”

“Balin is sending a letter now.”

He nodded again and looked back through the doors. Thorin was out of sight and probably wouldn't emerge from his corner for several hours yet. “Walk with me. We've got things to discuss.”

They went to the room Balin had originally been using for writing letters and making plans.

“Lass,” he started. “Bilba.” He looked down at her and she didn't know what to make of his expression. “This'll be complicated, you understand.” She didn't yet. “Thorin is my king, and I've been his confidant since before I could pronounce the word. He is a brother to me. But you listen to me, an' you listen carefully. You have my ax and you have my sword. You're under my protection so long as I can give it. Thorin is just as capable of doing wrong as the next man. He's not himself, and I don't know what to make of it.”

Bilba watched him closely and she frowned. “You think he would hurt me.” It wasn't even a question now. She'd heard it so many times from so many of her friends.

And it pained him, it truly did. “I don't know what to think right now. It's complicated. I'm sworn to him, and I'm swearing myself to you.”

“Thank you,” she said, though she was still somewhat at a loss for what was going on.

“Don't thank me yet. I don't know what I'll do if things go wrong here. You keep putting yourself between him and all this,” he said gesturing vaguely. “It's noble, and I hope what you're doing works. But I can see him getting pent up, and it an unfortunate thing you're trying to be the wall between him and his curse.”

“I have to help him.”

“I know,” he said. He knew very well. “And I thank you for it more than you'll ever know. It's been my job to protect him since I could hold a stick, and I can't help him now. I try, we all try. Just help him as best you can.”

“I will.”

He nodded. “You probably haven't ever had someone swear a sword to you before.”

“No, I can't say I have.”

He almost laughed.

“It's a blood oath on my part, so you don't have to worry. You don't have to do anything but accept it.” He pulled his ax over his shoulder and put his hand over the blade. “It's a bit of a stuffy practice, but I don't know another way to say it. I, Dwalin, son of Fundin, swear on my life to protect you with my own blood. Do you accept this?”

“Yes,” she said a little hesitantly.

He cracked a smile. He remembered being fourteen years old, his father at his back, while he said the same thing to Thorin. He sliced his hand open, but he didn't wince at the pain. “Okay now you hold your hands out like you've got something between them. Leave a gap, just like that.” She had her hands perpendicular to the floor and Dwalin put his hands together between her's. “Now you just put your hands around mine and that's about it. Lords'll make speeches but we don't need all of that.”

She smiled though and thanked him again.

“Just so you know, you have all of our swords,” he told her.

“Oh,” she said as they started down the corridor. “Should I expect more of this?”

He shook his head very seriously. “This isn't something just anyone does. You're family to this group, that's enough to have all our blades sworn to you already. Especially Fili's. He's named you his sister in our language, that's something very important. When he becomes king you're as good as royalty.”

“That's crazy.”

“Crazy, but true. He is the future king and his word will be law. Now what I've done is basically an act of fealty. Don't expect the lot of them to come pledging swords. Maybe Kili, maybe Bofur. Maybe my brother.”

Her chest felt tight, but she nodded. When had the situation gotten so dire? Gotten so out of hand? She just wanted to curl up in her armchair in Bag End and pretend like she had never run out of her front door.

 

Balin came to her with much the same concerns and ready to bleed for her as well. She accepted him with a smile, and the fear that if the two people closest to Thorin, who had grown up with him from their earliest memories, were scared enough to offer themselves so formally... well, something might just go wrong after all.

“I feel more worried now that you've both done this, than I did when you hadn't.”

“I know,” he did. He saw the look on her face when he cornered her in an empty hall. She knew what was coming. He knew Dwalin had already gotten to her.

“You have both known him forever, I... I just don't know what to think about all of this.”

Balin nodded solemnly. He didn't know anymore either, but he knew if she was hurt he would be responsible. He told her to hide the stone, and he let her go.

“And I think Dwalin doesn't think I understand the gravity of what you've both done here. I do. I might have little experience with this, but you've pledged to die for me. If it came down to my life or your's... you'd do it.”

“Aye, lass, that is exactly what we've done. But equally we've both made the same pledge to Thorin. It's complicated now.”

“You think he might hurt me. You know, this morning I was so sure he'd never do that. Now I'm scared. I don't want to be afraid.”

That weighed the heaviest on his heart, that he'd taken what little hope she had left of safety. “I'm so sorry.”

She tried to play at being strong, but gave up and wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder.

“This will all be over soon,” he promised, patting her on the back. “Things will go back to normal soon.”

 

Dori and Ori were on watch when Bard arrived. Ori came running through rounding everyone up, and paused in front of Dwalin, too nervous to actually get Thorin himself.

“Hail, King Under the Mountain. I trust you are well,” Bard called up to the balcony over the main gate.

“Well enough,” he said tensely. “But if you've come to discuss anything regarding the dragon then you find me in foul mood. I told you not to bring your forces here.”

“Even with the threat of war, Master Oakenshield? Forgive me, but I would not leave my forces behind with several thousand orcs marching my way.”

Dwalin did not like his snarky little tone. “Do you know who you're speaking to? You'll show some respect!”

Bard held up his hands and apologized. “I have only come to speak with you, that is all. I am not your enemy today.”

Thorin huffed and was nearly ready to walk away. Bard did his best not to roll his eyes.

“We have had little correspondence these last days, Thorin. A little word about the orcs would have been helpful. We have been most thankful for what messages Miss Baggins had been willing to send us.”

She bit her lip and did not look up, certain she would find Thorin's anger directed at her.

Instead he was glaring down at the trio. “And, pray tell, what has _Miss Baggins_ told you?”

Bard glanced over at the wizard, who was steadily trying to meet Bilba's gaze. He looked back up at Thorin. “That there are over five thousand orcs. We will stand with you for the promised price of one fourteenth of gold. That is all we have come to say. We do not wish to argue. We shall speak more of our trade after the battle.”

“There has been no agreement or trade!” he shouted.

Bilba smacked his arm. “Yes, there has,” she hissed. “Thank you. We are most grateful for both of your help.” She prayed they would just turn and leave. They said what they needed to. They promised that would be it. She didn't even care about the sword now. Gandalf was even starting to turn his horse to lead the way back. Even he sensed it was time to go.

“What agreement?” he yelled.

Bard didn't answer at first. He had intended to just go, but he had not been very fond of Thorin from the first moment he met him. “Miss Baggins will give us her gold.”

“And what right do you have to steal her share?”

“I gave it to him! Thorin, be quiet! We have allies now!” she said in harsh voice, just above a whisper.

“I won't let them have a single coin.”

She crossed her arms. “It's mine to do with as I please. I earned it.”

“They will not get a single coin,” he reiterated.

“Yes, yes,” Thranduil said in a bored tone. “We all feared as much. That is why Miss Baggins graciously came to us to make the original agreement,” he said. “It is a binding verbal contract.”

Bilba started backing away from the wall. “Yes, thank you, I'll talk to him! Goodbye!”

Thorin was growling and starting to lean over the edge to see the elf and lake man better. “And what agreement is this? I will allow no gold out of this mountain!”

Bilba hung her head and waited. This is why she wanted them to leave.

“We will return this once we are paid.” Bard held the Arkenstone high and it glimmered in the sunlight. Thorin went cold, and Bilba nearly died on her feet. “I have decided to leave it in Gandalf's protection as a neutral party,” Bard said and handed it over so that Thorin could see. But Thorin had stopped listening and stopped watching.

“Where did you get that?” And it was too quiet to hear below.

“We needed help,” Bilba said. “I needed to assure them they'd get paid. You weren't going to let me pay them,” she grabbed his arm and tired to make him look at her. “Thorin. Thorin! All you do is worry about that stupid stone. You're going to get us all killed!”

Balin pulled her away from Thorin who was going red. He pushed her behind himself and tried to stand between them.

“What did you do!?” he roared, stomping up and shoving Balin aside.

“I promise you it will be returned. I brought them the Arkenstone as proof. It will be swapped for my share of gold. I promise.”

It was quiet for a moment, like all the sound in the world had vanished. Thorin was shaking with rage. When finally there was sound again it was sharp and quick. The slap across her face almost echoed. She grabbed her cheek. His ring cut her just under her cheekbone. She was about to yell again when he grabbed her by wrist and tore her across the room, away from the company, and into the darkness.

No one below could see what was happening, and no one above could move. Their feet were frozen to the ground in a mixture of shock and terror.

Bilba couldn't quite remember how to breathe.

Thorin could remember little more than how to hate, and how to hurt.

He screamed at her, but he wasn't aware of what he was saying. He just wanted to say angry words. He shook her like a rabbit... and he could wring her neck just as easily as one. He could break her bones, and break her spirit, and break her.

He paced around her, his words jabbing like knives and all Bilba could think of was how Smaug had paced around her. The dragon had none of this rage. She feared Thorin now more than she ever feared that dragon. His wrath was inconceivable.

Her skin was on fire. She burned with something like shame. His words came in the common tongue and they came in guttural dwarvish. He said things that made battle hardened warriors flinch. She didn't understand most the words but she got the gist. The other things that stuck were betrayer. And coward.

Vile, despicable.

Conning, conniving, witch.

Nothing.

She was nothing!

Then he shoved her and she stumbled back. And he kept bearing down, and she backed herself into a wall, hands held up as if it would stop him. “Thorin, please,” she begged. “Please.”

When he gripped her by the shoulders he remembered the softness of her skin and it nearly broke him free...

Nearly.

Why did he come to love her? A traitor and a liar and a thief. Why her and not the line of suitors he'd had as a boy? Why her and not another? A brother in arms or any lady high born to pleasure girl.

Why the hobbit?

It shattered his heart more than broke it free. In the haze she started as starlight and silver fountains. Or had she always been so precious? She had been his other half. His One. He had waited for her for nearly two hundred years. He was born of the Line of Durin, he was the child of Mahal, and she was his own Yavanna. He thought... he thought that she...

It did not matter.

Now she was but rust and cold stone.

She stole the only thing he ever dreamed to have returned. He would damn the mountain to dust for the Arkenstone to be in his possession and she! She took it to the enemy! She who he loved. She betrayed him merely for the thrill.

But he gripped her hard enough to bring bruises and he remembered the curve of her body against his... And it nearly broke him free of his delusions... It nearly cleared the lies in his head... For war was on the door and he needed allies and she assured them for him... Only nearly could he see it through the fog...

Nearly.

And he was aware of the curve of her throat under his hand, and the screaming at his back. She had brought this on herself. She seduced him and spoke poison in his ear. She forsook every ounce of faith, trust and love he'd placed in her.

Damn her.

Even in the fog and the smoke he still thought of her as beloved, and it made him sick.

 

She had twisted her little hands in Thorin's clothes, catching hair in her fists. Her heart ran wild and she prayed he would just let go, that he would just let her go!

But he wrapped a large hand around her neck squeezed.

She didn't have time to scream.

Dwalin moved the moment he saw Thorin's hand twitch. He traveled at god-like speeds, because it took barely a second before he was wrenching Thorin's hand away in a bone breaking grip. Twisting his wrist so far back it might snap and there was something dark in Dwalin's eyes Bilba had never seen. She'd never seen a storm so dark.

Balin was pulling her out of Thorin's other hand and she was scrambling away and into Fili's arms. Kili had grabbed his knife and put himself in front of the pair. The whole company had their hands on their weapons.

“Get her out of my sight.”

Their loyalty to her made him ill. He snatched his arms from Balin and Dwalin and spun to look at her sobbing on his nephew's shoulder.

He wanted her dead. He wanted her gone and never wanted to see her face again. He wanted her dead!

And he loved her. He still loved her. He was going to throw up.

That love, that damned love he couldn't let go of, it was enough to spare the wretch of a woman her deserved fate. His voice quaked and came out straggled and broken on tears he would not cry. “You are hereby banished from this mountain, and these lands. If you ever return here I will kill you myself. Get out.”

She heard him but she couldn't process the words. There were shouts of protest around her. Everything felt like it was spinning.

“I once loved you,” and the words felt greasy and dirty in his mouth. “Consider that a blessing. That is the only reason I stay my sword.”

 

Dwalin had to have Gloin hold Fili back while he escorted Bilba out. If he hadn't been the one to do it he would have... well, he didn't know what he would have done to Thorin. Every ounce of him felt like a failure right now. For hoping Thorin would stop before he went too far.

Thorin's glare kept the rest of the company in place, except Balin who couldn't be cowed. He stormed after them.

Dwalin stood at the gate with an arm around her. She was sobbing too hard to walk straight. “Lass? Lass, pay attention to me. Let me see your neck.” He tilted her head up and bruising hadn't begun just yet, but he knew it would. “I should've been faster. I should have known he'd do something.”

She sucked back snot and tears. “You stopped him.”

“I'm going to kill him.” He said it so seriously she had step away.

“Don't!”

He shook his head and his eyes were black. “You don't know our laws, Bilba.”

“Don't kill him,” she said through another sob and Balin was there finally and holding her.

“Fine,” he ground out.

She coughed to clear her throat. “What's going to happen now?”

“Now, you're going to see that you get somewhere safe and far away from here. You get a pony and you ride. You don't look back. Go to your Shire.”

She shook her head, or she thought she did. She really wasn't certain. She didn't have the strength to really do anything.

Dwalin put a hand on her back. “You're a brave woman.”

“I don't see myself as brave,” she hiccuped.

He led her out towards Gandalf and the other. “Well, you're damn stubborn, and that will suffice. I want you gone before this fight starts.”

The wizard wrapped her up in his arms and held her tight.

“Wizard, no matter what happens, you will keep her safe,” Dwalin said.

“I will.”

“And if you know what's good for you both, you'll take her back to her home. Tonight.”

He nodded. “I'll see her away with a guard. I cannot leave this battle.”

“Then send all you can.” He turned to march away mumbling to himself.

Bilba was shaking when she looked up from Gandalf's hug, and her eyes fell on Thranduil. She saw Orcrist on his hip and she tore away from the wizard and marched up to him. “Give me the sword.”

He looked down at her like she was mad.

“Give me the sword!” she screeched.

The elf actually flinched. A king actually flinched away from her and fumbled to hand her the sword. She snatched it and marched back towards Erebor and shoved it into Dwalin's arms. “Give it Thorin.”

“Bil-”

“Just give him back his stupid sword!”

She did not spin on her heel very gracefully, and tear-blinded she nearly fell over herself walking back to Gandalf. She couldn't bare it any longer and simply broke down, slumping to her knees, and sobbing beside him.

Both of the brothers were hesitant to return to Thorin, but a look from Gandalf sent them on their way.

Bilba managed to get to her feet, but she could hardly stand.

Thorin had been watching her from above growing steadily more and more enraged. She cautioned a look up and met his eyes. Just one last time she wanted to see her. His eyes were full of hatred. She didn't know if her heart could break anymore.

He saw the tears pouring and he snapped. “The mithril I gave you may keep your heart protected, but if you do not leave an arrow may find your head, halfling!”

Kili grabbed his bow tightly. He'd snap it in two if Thorin ever looked like he was going step towards him.

Bilba barely managed to choke out a goodbye as she was lifted up onto Gandalf's horse and they rode away.

 

“No one leaves this mountain,” Thorin said. “Under pain of death.” His whole body buzzed like it was electrified. “And no one speaks a word of her again. Now get out! All of you get out!”

And they did. They slunk quietly down the hall feeling sick over what they'd witnessed. It very well may have been the last order they would follow.

If he had been anyone else, if he had been anyone but their king, they would taken and locked him away deep, deep down in the mountain. They would have called Bilba back and told her to name his punishment before they named their own.

A week saw years of love challenged. Strained.

One hand on her throat challenged lifetimes of loyalty that was never meant to be tested and was never meant to break.

Only Fili and Kili stayed, the frightened sons of a man who was not exactly their father. Fili would have gone, but Kili couldn't leave just yet. He was paralyzed.

Kili's mouth kept opening and closing, no words able to form. This was not his uncle. This was not the man who raised him. Kili didn't know who or what he was looking it. He was too scared to move. He didn't even realize he was crying, not until Fili started grabbing at his arms and pulling him closer, and wiping his eyes.

Dwalin came up the stairs holding out Orcrist. “Here.”

“Keep it.”

“You'll take this damn sword.”

Thorin growled and took it roughly and strapped it too his belt.

Balin followed soon after with a look on his face that made the boys uneasy. A push from Dwalin made them duck away at last, but not so far that they were out of earshot. They didn't want to see whatever was about to happen between Thorin and Balin, but they did want to know. Dwalin stayed and stood a step out of the way. It was very rare that he was frightened by his brother.

He hadn't ever seen rage so pure before. So white hot it could melt diamond.

Balin punched Thorin hard in the jaw. “Do you know what you've done!?”

“Balin!” he yelped in surprise and clutched his face.

“You've killed her!”

Thorin's hand fell away after a moment. “She has betrayed this company!”

“She is saving this company and you. She'll die out there. You've sentenced her to death!”

“Go, Balin. I want to be alone.”

Dwalin laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, but it was shrugged off.

“She sides with them,” Thorin continued. “We will have nothing more to do with a thief who would see my enemies take from our home.”

“And now your enemies will side with us in this war! We are allied in a war against the orcs. A war that would be against us had Bilba not interfered. Had Bilba not sacrificed her ties to you. The orcs are the real enemy today, not the men of Esgaroth and not Thranduil,” Balin snapped. “And most certainly not Bilba.”

“She was hired-”

“Is that all she was? An employee?! I have never met a greater fool!” he yelled.

“Get out, Balin!” The roar echoed through the halls. Thorin raged and Dwalin stood tall between him and his brother.

“Oh, I'll go. But I know I speak for more than myself when I say that if any in this company is loyal to _your_ betrayal I will find another dragon and feed myself to him. I will go into Thranduil's service.”

And he marched away into the armory. He needed to make battle plans.

Dwalin only gave Thorin a curt nod before following his brother. He had made a promise to Bilba not to hurt him.

 

The day drug into night and no one knew quite what Thorin was doing. He roamed the halls like a beast, shouting himself hoarse, and throwing any unfortunate thing that ended up in his hands. It some point he ended up shutting himself in his rooms.

Balin had had some time to calm down, at least a bit. He went to plead with him one more time, even if he knew it was useless.

“She's your One.”

“I would have no One like her.”

He clenched his jaw. “And did you not court her? Is there nothing sacred to you? Did you not braid your beads into her hair? I have never seen two people who fit like you. You know how rare that is. What is she then, if not your One?”

Thorin felt weak. He felt tired and old and sick of it all. The look on his face almost reminded Balin of when Thorin had lost Frerin. Numb and cold. Lonely. So utterly alone and chilled and nothing could warm him.

“I was wrong.”

There was fury behind Balin's eyes could have set a man on fire. “You seem to be wrong about her quite often, lad.”

He huffed as he walked into another room. “No. I was right the first time. She had no place among us.”

Balin glared at him as he started to shut a door. “She had a place with all of us. A friend, a sister, a _daughter_. Family. You're the only one who says otherwise.”

“Balin, you may have her, and if you do not stay your tongue I will send you away with her!”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Would you? Would you send your military adviser away with a war not two days away? You need me.”

“Aye, I do. So go to your post, and leave your king be.”

 

He sunk into his bed that night and it was too cold. There was ice in his veins. Everything felt empty and so completely wrong. He closed his eyes and nightmares came to him. Black and evil dreams. Or...

Were they dreams? Was it a memory?

His whole day didn't even exist except in hazy images. In gloom and smoke and fragments of memories, and he wasn't even sure of those were true.

He closed his eyes and saw her's growing more pale and lifeless by the second. Broken neck. Choking on blood. Crushed windpipe. She couldn't even scream. He had his hands around her throat while she beat weakening fists against his chest until finally, finally she was still.

There was blood on his hands. There was blood on his hands and it wouldn't come off. She was lying at his feet. He left her there as a warning.

It felt so real. But it couldn't be. No! It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. He hadn't done that to her. He hadn't straggled her to death.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

_It wasn't real!_

But it felt so very real.

Thorin woke up in a cold sweat and threw up on the floor.

The sun had risen a violent red. When he looked beside himself his heart skipped a beat. She wasn't there. She wasn't anywhere. He went running through the halls. He had to find her.

He didn't kill her. He couldn't have killed her. _She wasn't dead_.

He tried so hard to assure himself. Everything in him ached. His heart was going to explode in his chest. It all felt so real. He could still feel her throat in his hands. Soft and fragile and so easy to break.

He broke into a sob as he turned a corner and saw his nephews. Kili snarled. Fili's eyes were ringed red and he looked at Thorin like he would stab him if he came any closer.

What had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for the comments and kudos you've left :)  
> I'm not sure how long it will be until I have the next chapter ready. Thank you all for being patient with me.


	11. The Golden Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A broken woman hides her fears behind armor, and a young boy leads an army to war.

Bilba cried herself to sleep early that evening and thanks to a little magic from Gandalf she did not dream. It was not exactly a restful sleep, nor peaceful, but it was not wrought with horrible memories.

In the morning she awoke to an elven healer mixing a sweet draught. It was for her nerves, he said, and she could drink it with tea.

“The best thing for my nerves would be a pipe,” she said just as Gandalf was stepping into the tent with a hot cup of tea. Where he managed to procure it was a mystery.

He laughed. “I apologize then. I haven't brought any pipe-weed with me.”

She ducked her head to hide a slight frown. “For the best, I suppose. I have no idea what became of my pipe.” Which was a lie. She knew exactly where her pipe was. It was in her bag in the mountain next to Thorin's bed. But for all she knew or cared her bag could have been set on fire, and she didn't want to dwell on it.

He sat down and handed her the cup. “Well, then I'll be sure to replace it as soon as I can.”

She shook her head. “When we're back in the Shire just get me some Old Toby. I've got plenty of pipes.”

“For you, I'd buy a barrel.”

Bilba picked up the draught and gave it a sniff before deciding to drink it all at once. At first it was nice, it tasted like berries, but it had an aftertaste that could knock over a horse.

Gandalf had a good laugh over the faces she made, but as they both settled down they sat in silence, unsure quite what to say to each other now.

Gandalf watched her take sips of tea and wince sometimes as she swallowed. Her neck had gone a sickening mix of blues and browns. She'd had her shoulders looked at by the healer the day before. They looked worse than her neck to be honest, but her shoulders did not make every deep breath feel like a punishment.

She looked up with determined eyes and Gandalf sighed. He knew that she knew exactly what he'd come here to say. She sat in her mithril armor with her sword on her hip. He didn't waste his breath trying to plead one last time for her to go. Her mind was made up. Gandalf was not yet sure if it was stubbornness, braveness, or self-destruction.

He wished, not for the first time, that he had the foresight of elves. He still found it hard to believe that Bilba and Thorin had been courting. She spilled all her pains to him last evening while she cried. The two had been practically engaged by dwarven standards for dwarves rarely courted if they did not intend to see it through to the very end. Gandalf never imagined things would go so far. Now Bilba sat in a tent, nursing tea and a broken heart.

He never meant to cause her pain or bring her grief.

“Oh, my dear,” he took the mug from her shaking hands and put it aside. “I'm sorry. I never wanted these things to happen.”

“Nor did I,” she said and clasped her hands in her lap. “And I don't think I regret what I did. No, I don't regret it at all. Even if Thorin hates me. It just hurts, Gandalf. I don't think I've ever hurt so badly. If we had never,” she stopped and reigned back her emotions. “If we just stayed like we had before, just always fighting, I would have been able to take his hate now. But now,” she hung her head but she did not cry. Her tears had all be spent.

“It is not my place to speak,” he said, “But given what I know of dwarvish courting and what I know of Thorin himself, I believe he genuinely loves you. Things have gotten quite muddled in his mind.” Bilba sniffled and brought up a hand to wipe her eyes. “Thorin loves you, Bilba. He will remember it before the end.” He said it because he thought it was what she needed to hear. Personally, he would have preferred if they never crossed paths again.

Part of the wizard just wanted to swoop the hobbit up and take her away from Thorin's orbit. He'd made a mistake sending her here. Out of all of the Shire she was undoubtedly his best option, but that didn't mean it was wise. He could have chosen a dwarf, or a man. But he also knew she was heartbroken and in love, even after all of this. He could not be more cruel to her and say Thorin did not love her still, or that she should stop loving him. That wasn't something you could just control.

And he did not know the truth about what Thorin felt for her now, but he knew what he wanted to be true. He wanted whatever would bring Bilba happiness.

“The end,” she sighed. “I don't want it to end like this. I tried so hard to keep it from coming to this.”

“Even you cannot stop wars. You have allies,” he said. “Things will be easier.”

“At what cost? I'll never see any of them again. He'll kill me if I go back. I'll never see any of my friends again.”

“It is the dragon sickness. It will pass.”

She huffed. “And if it does? I still stole the Arkenstone. If by some miracle he forgives me he'll never look at me the same way. He won't trust me and I can't bare that. And what is to say it won't happen again? Another shiny rock, another bit of gold.” She lifted her neck to show off Thorin's parting gift. “I can't stand between him and his treasures again.”

“When he is free he will realize that you are a greater treasure than the Arkenstone ever was.”

She crumpled and hugged her knees. “I know that he's sick. It's a curse, but I can't forgive him right now.”

“Nor should you,” Gandalf said, anger edging his voice. “And neither shall I. I have no plans to let this matter go by unpunished. Madness or not, you were injured by his hand and had Dwalin not interceded you could have been killed.”

“I want to go home,” she said. “I just want all of this war nonsense to be over so that I can go home and forget I ever met Thorin Oakenshield.” She looked over at him and opened her mouth to say something but stopped.

“What is it?”

“Shh! Do you hear horns?”

 

You could see the cracks in Thorin as clearly as if he were made of glass. His misery was etched into his face, tracing wrinkles and old scars and weighing heavily on his eyes.

Where was she? He needed to know where Bilba was. Why did he feel so destroyed for thinking of her?

There was no trace of her anywhere. There was nothing but the memory of her body and her muffled voice.

“Where is she?!” he roared, sagging under the weight of his own body, his hand gripping at the wall to keep him upright. He was dizzy. He was going to be sick again.

All he got were angry and confused looks from his nephews.

“Where is Bilba?” He tried for calm, but it came out all too loud and scratchy in his desperate panic.

Fili's back straightened, and he stood as tall as he could. “She... she's gone, Thorin.” His skin prickled.

“What do you mean gone?”

“My _sister_ is _gone_ ,” he said through gritted teeth. His eyes were on fire and he turned to march away, grabbing Kili by the arm and pulling him along.

What had he done?

He yelled again, something unintelligible, drew back his fist, and slammed it into the stone wall. Thorin didn't exactly have much sanity left in him, maybe not any at all. Fili saw something coming over him and didn't know what it was. That unknown something scared him. He shoved his brother down the hall. “Go! I'll deal with this. Get out of here.”

“But-”

“Go, Kili!”

Thorin's screaming was loud enough to bring a few members of the company running, meeting a frantic Kili as he took the stairs at the end of the hall two at a time. It was Dori, Dwalin and Ori.

“I don't know what's going on,” he said as he pointed back up the stairs. “Uncle's lost it. Even more than before.”

Dwalin ran forward first, Dori jumping to attention not a second later and following him to the mad ranting upstairs. Kili ground his teeth as he hung back and wrapped his arms around himself. Ori bit his lip, unsure of what he should do. He cautiously touched Kili's shoulder. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

He let out a shocked laugh. “I don't know what I've seen, Ori. I'm not going back up there.”

He looked over his shoulder as others came up the hall and he silently pointed them towards Thorin. Not that he needed to.

Ori shifted nervously on his feet. “We'll wait down here then. We'll...”

The screaming was filling the hall, and it twisted a knife in Kili's gut. Ori winced sharply. “Or, we, uhm, we could go for a walk. Come on,” he said putting a hand on his back. They each threw a look over their shoulder as more and more of their friends came running to the source of the howling that was filling the mountain.

They'd go as far away as it took not to hear him.

 

Fili wanted his turn to scream and tear his hair out. He wanted to shout and swear and cry. What right did his uncle have to act this way? Fili forced himself to stand as strong as pillar among a growing mass of uneasy faces.

“He's cracked,” he said, voice deceptively emotionless.

Dwalin and Dori had already had to wrestle Thorin away from the wall he was trying to beat bloody, but the only blood he was drawing was his own. They even needed Gloin to help keep him still. Now Thorin was just shouting and they couldn't shut him up.

“She's dead. She's gone. I killed her. I killed her!”

When he screamed her name Fili didn't think he deserved to sound so decimated. He shouldn't have reminded him of his mother on the day his father died.

“Just get him out of here!” Fili pleaded. “Lock him in his room or something. I don't care!”

Gloin and Dori had their arms hooked through either of Thorin's. The last of the company filtered up just in time to see a broken man being dragged away.

“He's completely insane,” Fili declared. And, Mahal help him, he was going to regret this. He took a deep breath and fought not to rake his hands over his face. “He's not fit to rule. I...” and his hands were shaking then. “For now I am in change and I'm going to speak to Bard.” He looked around for a moment and caught a few reassuring nods. “Balin, would you come with me?”

He nodded and fell into step at Fili's side. “Of course, lad.”

“Armor,” he quietly reminded himself as they walked down the hall. “We should get our armor,” he said and looked over.

“Aye, that would be good. I doubt we'll be returning here.”

Fili nodded and tried to keep his hands steady.

“You okay there, lad?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea what I'm doing, Balin.”

“I'll be here with you every step of the way,” he said. “You're going to do fine. You've been training your whole life for this.”

“I know how to speak in front of people,” he said. “I have never trained to lead an army.”

“You've led troops before. Perhaps not into war, but you know how to lead. You were trained for the crown. You're more ready than you think you are. Let Dain lead his troops, and let me advise you.”

Part of Fili wanted to take back what he'd said. He didn't want to be in charge. But it was only a small part. This was his duty, and he would see it done. Standing in the armory though, he almost needed to stop and sit down to get himself together. “This is completely mental. I basically just declared myself king.”

Balin watched Fili putting on his mail, his face a mask of bravery. “Fili, you are a king. A king I would follow into battle. Not just because it is who you were born to be, but because I have watched you grow up from an infant and I know just how strong of a man you are. You are just as strong as Thorin ever was. Whether you had declared it or not, the crown was going to be put into your hands before this day was done. I'm sure of that.”

Fili wasn't sure what to say to that. He swallowed hard and looked at Balin. Behind his mask was not a soldier but a little boy who wanted to home to his mother. Still no matter how much he wanted it he had to be the soldier today.

They helped each other into mail and plates. Balin tucked a helmet under his arms and Fili cautiously reached out, his fingers hovered just over the crown. Thorin had it put there for himself and it sat with his armor in the early days when his madness was not so great.

“I shouldn't,” he said quietly. He didn't want it. King's wore their crowns to battle. Everyone knew who the leader was.

Balin put a hand on his shoulder and Fili's arms dropped. “Leave it. You will have plenty of time in the future to wear that crown.”

He nodded quietly and let himself be led from the room and from the mountain.

They weren't halfway across the field when horns sounded from the east. Balin's face lit up. “That'll be Dain. Just in time too.”

 

Bilba looked panicked while Gandalf strained his ears. He let out a breath and put a hand on her shoulder. “That is the horn of the Iron Hills. No need to worry.”

“At least not yet,” she added.

“Yes. Not yet. I'm going to ride out to meet him. Would you like to accompany me?”

She shook her head. “That doesn't sound like the best idea.”

“No? Well, in that case come with me.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as she stood up and brushed off her shirts.

He just looked innocent and held open the tent flap for her.

“Gandalf?”

“I'm not sure quite how long I'll be gone,” he explained. “I shall need someone to keep watch for a friend of mine.” He paused to look around. “Ah! Come along, Bilba. Keep up.” He led her between groups of men and elves until she was at the southern edge of the camp. Two elves were sitting there, apparently waiting for the wizard. “Legolas, Tauriel. No signs of the orcs yet?”

Legolas shook his head. Tauriel shrugged. “It shouldn't be long, Mithrandir,” she said. “A few hours,” she estimated. “The scouts keep sending word. They will be here today.”

He nodded. “I'm riding out to meet Dain. Miss Baggins is going to sit and keep watch with you.” He smiled and watched her settled herself down on a box.

“What I am waiting for?” she asked.

“A raven will be coming, looking specifically for you,” he said. “She'll have a message for me about the outcome of her meeting.”

“Another raven? What about Coräc?”

Gandalf shook his head. “He'll be arriving late, I fear. You'll be meeting Sarok, she is Coräc's older sister.”

Bilba nodded. “You still haven't told me where Coräc's gone.”

“You'll find out soon enough. Now I really must be going. Farewell.”

She rolled her eyes as he left and crossed her arms to wait quietly. Legolas and Tauriel resumed talking, but in elvish now. She almost laughed at their attempt to exclude her, and she might have if not for the tone of the conversation.

“Fishermen and little boys,” he scoffed. “These are no soldiers. Just look at them. They're frightened.”

“They try, mellon. Not everyone has been in a fight before.” Even Tauriel was nervous and she made her way in this world as a fighter, but she had never been in a battle this big before, and she had never been so outnumbered.

Bilba looked at Legolas with hard eyes until her stare made him turn to look at her. She spoke in the clearest elvish she could. “If you're so worried about the state of the men of Esgaroth then maybe you should leave, Master Legolas.”

He was shocked to see she spoke his language.

Tauriel smirked.

“It is my duty,” he said.

“And it is their's too. To their families and their homes. What makes you superior enough to mock their fear. All sane folk would be afraid.”

“What are you doing way out here, Miss Baggins,” Tauriel asked, moving to sit beside her. “Your home is quite a way behind you.”

“Bilba,” she insisted. “And these are my friends. My family. I would see them to whatever end. I will not turn back now, not matter how many people seem to think I should,” she said and frowned. “And most people do,” she added. _All of them really._

“Friends,” Legolas scoffed. “Dwarves do not make friends outside of their own kind.”

Bilba's smile was almost fond. “I'll admit, when we first started out I wasn't friends with them, but I've been with them so long I can hardly imagine a life without them. Perhaps if you spent some time with dwarves you'd see that they can just as friendly as anyone else, if a little rougher around the edges. Who knows. Maybe one you'll be stuck somewhere with a dwarf and you'll just have to learn to get along.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Tauriel laughed. “I think the stars would cease to shine before that day came.”

 

Kili didn't stay gone long. When the screaming abruptly stopped he turned around curious of the new development. He wished he hadn't gone back to the hall. He wished he had just kept walking, getting lost, and never coming back.

There was blood on the wall and he didn't know where it had come from, but he knew it wasn't anything good. It made his stomach turn.

“Where is my brother?” he asked looking around.

“He's gone to see Bard,” Nori said.

“I'm going,” he said turning around.

Dwalin caught his arm. “No.”

“Aye,” Bofur said. “Fili's put himself in charge. That means you're in charge here.”

Kili yanked his arm free of Dwalin. “I don't give a shit about who is in charge! I'm going!”

“This is ridiculous! We're not letting anyone else leave this mountain!” Dwalin yelled. “Bilba is somewhere safe. Fili and Balin are going to make plans. We need to sit here and stay armed and wait for Dain. Now let's all keep our fucking heads, alright!”

Kili grimaced but stayed put.

Dwalin on the other hand had so much energy he could start running laps. This was battlefield Dwalin. This was a professional warrior ready to go into the fight.

Dori came back, half jogging up the hall after hearing Dwalin shout. “Someone's got to sit with Thorin,” he said “He's gone mad.”

“He's been mad,” Dwalin snapped. “What's he done now? Stupid fool.”

“Besides have a mental breakdown?” Dori said. “Well he's torn up his hands and as soon as we got him into his rooms he went berserk. He broke a table and pair of chairs, then he cut off his braids! We got him to calm down, sort of,” he said and then hung his head sadly. “That cloak Bilba had been wearing was lying on the bed. He picked it up and he's and now he's just catatonic.”

“Send Oin up then,” he said with a frustrated growl. “We've got other things that need doing that don't involve babysitting. I need Gloin here. Who here hasn't been to war?” he asked. It was just Ori, Nori, and Kili. “Right. Well, I need Nori here.” He turned to Ori and Kili. “You two can take turns watching Thorin. I need military minds right now.”

 

At first Thorin grunted and demanded that he be left alone. So they did the smart thing and took every blade they saw and hid them in another room. Oin looked Thorin over, wrapped up his knuckles, and left complaining that Thorin was being, “a stupid, bloody git with a death wish,” and something along the lines of, “I'm going shove my staff so far up his ass he's going to choke on it.”

Kili offered to sit with Thorin first. He wasn't sure how long he sat there.

“Uncle?” he looked over and watched him, not that Thorin was doing anything. He’d been quiet and still for possibly hours now. Time was standing still. “Say something.” _Anything_. He would have taken anything. Any word. Even if it was another demand to get out.

He sunk down in his chair when he got nothing.

He wasn’t sure if there were a thousand thoughts running through Thorin’s mind or none at all. His brother would have known. He knew everything. He thought Bilba might have known too, and the thought made him sigh again. It hadn’t been a whole day yet and he missed her.

He regretted that he didn't go with her. Several of them did.

Bofur was damn near crazy over it.

If Fili were there he would know there were precisely two thoughts running through Thorin’s mind. Thorin was wearing the same face Dis had worn for a month after her husband died.

How do I turn back the clock and change this?

And how do I go on now?

“I'm sorry,” Kili said quietly. He needed to fill the dead air. “I don’t know why. You hurt Bilba, and I don’t forgive you for that. I’m just sorry it happened. I’m sorry we ever came here.”

Oin popped in his head to see if anything had changed, but Kili just shook his head and he left without a word.

When Thorin finally said something it was so soft it hurt Kili's heart.

He'd been trying his best to replay the last day, trying to piece together what he did. How it all happened. He was trying to separate dreams from reality and failing miserably.

“How could I?” He pressed his hands into his eyes. He wanted to roll over and die. Join her and beg her forgiveness in another life.

Why had they even allowed him to live?

“I killed her,” it came out like a ghost of a whisper. “She's really dead.”

Kili watched him closely. When his hands came down he was crying. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he ever saw his uncle cry. He remembers vaguely being told once that if he ever saw him cry the world was probably ending, and he should probably leave him be.

The world was ending though, but it was one man's world.

He'd played it over a thousand times and there was separation of fact and fiction. He'd... he had killed her. His beloved One.

He didn't feel empty. He felt too full, like his chest would burst with the grief.

He stood up abruptly. There was no changing it. No going back. No forgiveness he could ask and no thread of hope left.

For a moment Kili was glad they'd moved every sharp object out of the room. But Thorin was not rising up to hurt himself. “Unc- Thorin?”

He shook his head and walked out onto the balcony. Kili followed him and looked out over the troops and tents.

“She isn't...” Kili said.

“I need my sword and my armor,” he said. If he could do one last thing for his name and his line, for there was nothing he could do for her, it was this. He may have lost all of his honor, but he would march to war like an honorable soul should and fight until he could no longer stand. A better king would come out of this fight, and it would not be him.

“She isn't dead,” Kili said.

“The orcs are on the horizon. You can see their banners from here.”

“Bilba isn't dead,” Kili repeated, louder this time.

“They won't be able to see them from down there just yet.”

He grabbed Thorin's arm. “Listen to me!” He pulled his uncle away from the balcony and back into the room. “Stop! Stop looking out there. She isn't dead. You didn't kill her.”

“Kili-”

“She isn't dead. If you had killed her do you think you'd be sitting here now? Do you?” He forced him to sit down while he paced around the room. “Who do you really think would allow you to be here if you'd killed her? No one. The only reason you're not locked in some cell is because... because I don't know. You're the king!” He threw up his arms. “And she made Dwalin promise not to hurt you, which by extension I guess means all of us. I mean Balin knocked the hell out of you, but you deserved it. You deserve a lot more for the hell you've caused us the last week! I mean, do you even remember all the crap you did?”

And he ranted on for quite a while. He needed to unleash. He couldn't just keep holding it back. Thorin watched Kili shout his rapid fire list of things that had happened, and while his memories didn't return he listened intently to it, trying to take it in.

“And Bilba, Mahal! I don't know how she did it. I don't know how she put up with you, and kept smiling like she did. 'Everything is fine,' she kept saying. We knew it was a lie but we let ourselves believe it. She trusted you, even though you were completely crazy. She trusted you and did everything she could for us. Why did you have to hurt her!” he yelled and spun on him. “Why'd you have to do it!”

He was shaking and out of breath when he let his shoulders drop. Thorin was struggling to process.

“You must believe me when I say I have no idea what I did. I can't remember what I did to her. All I remember is killing her.”

“You-” he cut himself off and looked away. “You tried to. If Dwalin had been any slower who knows what could have happened. You choked her for all of us to see. And you banished her while she was hurt and begging. You sent her out there to a war,” Kili said. “All I know is that Gandalf was supposed to take her away from here. Knowing her,” he laughed bitterly. “Knowing her she's still down there planning to fight. She's going to get herself killed for real.”

 

Fili's voice across the field was like a bell in her ears. Her head picked up and she found him immediately across the crowd. She jumped down from her box and mumbled, “Excuse me, I need to go... I'll be back. If the raven comes just...” but she was off before she could finish her thought.

His armor fit well, she thought. Fili looked every inch a warrior. He looked ready to march out and meet Azog and slay him for the lost lives of people he had never known. People he was raised to respect and love by only their name.

Bilba's hands shook, her lips trembled, and she covered her mouth in a sad attempt to hide her frown.

“No,” she choked out between her fingers.

He was covered in iron and mail and leather. It sent a shiver down her spine and made her knees weak. If she lost him...

 _Oh_.

Here she thought she was done crying. He held up a hand to Balin and walked away, damn his duty for this moment. He grabbed her and held her, and she tried not to cry into his shoulder, but failed.

They stood that way for a long moment. “Namad,” he said quietly. “You have to go. Please leave. Please. I can't keep begging.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm staying. I made up my mind, Fili.”

He squeezed his eyes tight. “I know,” he said. “I just figured I'd try one more time.” He rested his forehead to her's. “Why do you stay?”

“For the same reasons you do.” She pushed a braid back over his shoulder with a frown. “Fili, you listen to me, because if I don't get to say this and I miss my chance, I'll regret forever. I love you. I love you, and I love Kili. I love everyone we traveled with. And I still love Thorin. Now tell me something. How do I say 'brother?'”

“Nadad.”

“Listen to me, nadad. One day you are going to be a wonderful king. But right now you're just going to have to survive. For me, and our brother, and our friends. And Thorin, even though we're both mad at him. He still needs us, whether he can see it or not.”

“He...” and he looked away. He wasn't sure what had happened to Thorin that morning. “He was looking for you. He didn't know where you were. He completely lost it this morning. He just broke.”

“What do you-”

She was cut off by a large dwarf being tailed by an exasperated Gandalf. “Fili!” he yelled. “Is that you, lad? You can't miss that blond hair in a crowd,” he laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “They're telling me you're regent! Get in here and explain this while I look at these plans... Who's this?” he asked as he noticed Bilba stepping back from his cousin.

He was built like Gloin, broad and sturdy, but looked stronger than Dori. He was almost as terrifying as the first time she'd seen Dwalin, stooped on her front step. But was was also grinning wide, like the idea of a battle made him a giddy child.

He stepped around his cousin and took her hand. “Dain Ironfoot,” he said as he bowed and kissed her knuckles. “Lord of the Iron Hills.”

“B-Bilba Baggins,” she said and gave a small curtsy.

“Aha! You are the one Balin wrote about then. At your service,” he said and bowed again. “You're the reason we stand a chance in this fight. Circumstances are complicated, he said best not to mention them so I won't ask how you managed it, but you'd best be heading back into the mountain,” he said. “Get somewhere safe.”

“Oh, I-”

But he was already dragging Fili away and she was left not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She settled on a laugh that probably made her look absolutely mad.

As she made it back to her place with the elves a large black bird was waiting for her. “You are Miss Baggins?”

“Yes, yes. I'm sorry. I was,” she looked over her shoulder.

“Quite fine,” Sarok said. “I've only just arrived. I have two message, the first for Gandalf the Gray. If this is to be war the ravens will not sit ideally by. Our envoys have returned with many of my folk. We will fight at the dwarrows side. After all, this is our land as well.” She did not wait for a response from Bilba. “The next message is for you, and comes from my brother,” she said and her stiff demeanor softened. “He said to thank you. You have given him much courage. My younger brother has never once flown beyond our lands. Most call him a coward. At Gandalf's request, and for your sake, he was flown to the Eyrie in the Misty Mountains to call for aid from the Great Eagle.” She spread her wings and made a small bow. “I thank you as well. I have heard good things of you from my brother and father. You are a friend of the ravens, Miss Baggins. We are at your service.”

“Thank you. I am at your service as well,” she said, returned the bow.

Sarok squawked and said her goodbyes. “I must return now to my father. May you fare well on the battlefield.”

“You too. Be safe.”

 

Dwalin was on his way to the armory when he saw Kili ducking inside with Ori and gathering up Thorin's armor. He huffed and stormed by, going up stairs barging into his room.

“Thorin!” he barked and he looked over at him, half dressed and waiting for Kili. “What do you think you're doing?”

“I'm getting ready,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right? And you're fit to leave this room why? Because you said so?” Dwalin said pacing across the room.

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you my nurse now, Dwalin?”

“No, but last I saw you you were a sobbing like a baby and unable to walk.”

“And now I'm not,” Thorin said. “I've got it under control.”

“Right,” he said completely unconvinced.

“In more ways than emotionally.”

Dwalin just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“I made mistakes,” he said.

“A bit more than mistakes,” Dwalin interrupted.

“Yes, a good deal more than just mistakes. I've done unforgivable things to this company and to Bilba.”

Dwalin looked him over closely.

“You seem less nuts,” he said. “Doesn't mean you are though.”

“It's over, Dwalin. It's done. I am in control of myself, and I will not fall again.”

Kili lingered by the door, quietly listening.

“Prove it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” he said throwing out an arm. “Should I be grovelling for forgiveness? Bring Bilba here and I will grovel until my throat is sore and I can no longer-”

“I wouldn't dare bring here back here,” he snapped. “Now, shut up. You sound like a ninny.”

Thorin huffed. “Then how, Dwalin?”

“I don't really know,” he said shaking his head. “What if I told you all the gold was gone.”

“It's not. I wouldn't care.”

“Hm.” Dwalin started pacing again. “And if I said Bard currently has the Arkenstone in his possession. Which he does.”

“Damn the Arkenstone, Dwalin! If I must throw it in the nearest volcano then I will. I will not let it control me again! My mind is my own!” he shouted, red in the face.

Dwalin considered him for a long moment before he nodded. “Kili!” he barked. “Stop skulking in the hall. Bring me that armor.” The young dwarf stumbled, Ori right behind him, and they laid it down across a table. “Good, now go and get your own. Tell the boys it's time to be ready. We'll meet Fili in camp.”

They left as Thorin started picking up a bit of chain mail. “Why is Fili in camp?”

“Somebody had to be king in your absence.”

His armor was lighter than Dwalin would have liked him to wear. Thorin said he needed to be able to move. He would have to be dead in the thick of the fight to find Azog, and heavy plates would slow him down. Dwalin couldn't disagree.

“I've followed you since I could walk, nadad. You are my king and I will follow you bleeding to the grave if it must be so. I was there to see you crowned King of Durin's Folk, I'll be damned if I'm not there to see you crowned King Under the Mountain,” Dwalin said.

“What right have I to be king?”

“Besides your blood? You're a damned good leader when you're not completely insane,” he said picking up the crown. “And even when you are. It took an insane man to cut off Azog's arm. You called in Ered Luin, and we followed because of your leadership. And if you are indeed back in your right mind then we'll follow you still. That doesn't mean you don't have apologies to make after the fight, but I think we can put it behind us until Azog is dead and his head's on a pike.”

He put the crown into Thorin's hands and watched him fit it around his head.

He'd waited his whole life to see Thorin in that crown, and while he was not yet crowned King of Erebor, he still felt rush of pride.

 

“So,” Dain started. “What exactly are you doing here, lad?” He was between Balin and Gandalf and leaning over a large map.

“I'm doing what I can.”

“And where's Thorin? I'd like to know a bit about this regent business, if it's all the same.”

Fili was stiff. “My uncle is unwell.”

Dain looked at him out of the corner of his eye, still busy looking at how the land was situated. “Lad, you're going to need to catch me up on some things,” he said finally leaning back. “First there is an alliance out of the blue with the two armies that were against us not two days ago, and now you're in charge. I trust you and Balin, I'm just saying it's a little fishy.”

“I think it's a conversation best said in private,” Fili said in a hushed voice.

Gandalf spoke up. “We all here know what has happened with Thorin. Just explain it, and be done. We don't have time to mess around.”

Fili sighed. “It's the gold sickness. Last I saw my uncle he was in the middle of a mental breakdown. So, I'm heir and I'm here.”

Dain nodded solemnly. “Right. We'll see about my cousin later. How many forces do we have, and what are the most recent numbers that we're up against?”

Thranduil had roughly one thousand elves. Bard called and two hundred and fifty-seven men from Laketown were able. Dain had a little over five hundred dwarves.

“And we are fourteen, including my uncle and Bilba,” Fili said.

“The woman? Absolutely not,” he protested. “She'll be leaving-”

“She's staying,” Fili said. “She wants to be here, and it isn't our place to make her leave.”

Dain made a noise in the back of his throat. This was completely unacceptable. “Fili, she's a woman.”

“At least half of the elven warriors are woman,” Gandalf said.

Dain remained focused on his cousin. “You know she isn't supposed to go into battle. I'm not even sure why you allowed her on this trek to begin with. Hell, I'm not even sure what she is. She looks like a dwarfling who hasn't gotten her beard yet.” He turned to Balin hoping he'd have some sense. “She's too small to stand with us. She'll be trampled before she can even fight.”

“She's a hobbit,” Fili said.

“Never heard of one. That doesn't change the fact that war is no place for her. Why is she even out here?”

“It's a long story that we haven't got time for,” Gandalf said. “And as for her skill, she is a good enough fighter to stand with your army, despite her size or gender. Surely you've heard of female warriors.”

Dain crossed his arms and huffed. She didn't look like any kind of fighter he'd ever seen. “Fine, fine,” he held up his hands. “If a shieldmaiden she is, I'll let her do what she does. But it doesn't feel right.” He turned back to the maps. “How many orcs?”

Balin sighed. “Over five thousand, not counting their wargs. The ravens say there are around five hundred of them though. They couldn't get an exact count.”

“We don't have enough men. This'll be a slaughter,” Bard said.

“You don't know dwarves then, Master Bard,” Dain said, puffing out his chest.

Thranduil nodded. “I have archers along the river and concealed in the trees. The orcs will be driven away from Mirkwood and around the far side of the long lake.”

“The rest of the men are stationed here, and here,” Gandalf said pointing to the map.

“Right,” Dain said, dragging his finger along the map. “I will divide my men. Most will join you here on the field, but the rest,” he said tapping at a ridge, “Will be here. We'll attack from both sides.”

“I'll have archers posted there as well,” Thranduil said.

“Aye,” Dain said with a nod. “Aye, this should work. I've seen worse odds.” Bard nodded along nervously, and Fili crossed his arms listening. It all sounded good on paper. “Your archers are famed for their skill, there's no denying,” he said to the elf king. “These plans look solid. I'll go inform my men. Fili, come on.”

Balin gave him a nod and Fili followed behind. Dain laughed and let the boy fall into step at his side. “Don't be following, lad. You're in charge here, not me.”

“I've never been in a battle,” Fili said. “I'm not sure what to expect, honestly.” He did his best to set his jaw and look the part of a king. Someone who was ready to bleed and ready to fight and had no fear.

Dain nodded, his jovial attitude falling away. “A lot of blood, a lot of death. It'll be rough. We're outnumbered, but not so much that it looks impossible.” Dain put a hand on his shoulder. “It's okay to be nervous. Hell, it's good. It's good to be nervous. You don't go in with unreal exceptions. You ain't invincible. But,” he said with a sigh, “You're right to hold your chin up and hide it. Right now these men are looking to you as the King of Durin's Folk. Your bravery is their bravery.”

Fili nodded.

“Alright, lad. You ready to go get the troop rallied?”

“Yes,” he said and Dain laughed.

“Brave as they come.”

“You've been to war,” Fili said. “How old were you the first time?”

“Oh, I was much younger than you. My thirties. But you never get used to it. You walk into a fight with family and people you think of as brothers, but you've got no guarantees they'll be walking back out with you. Or maybe they will walk out, but it's without you. Your little brother is out there, isn't he.”

“Yeah. Kili...”

“You listen to me then. You find him, and you stick with him. Let me tell you something about your uncle, he never forgave himself after Azanulbizar. He and Frerin got separated and Frerin died. So you find your brother, you hear me?”

“But, I should-”

“No,” he stopped him. He stopped him mid-stride in the middle of the field. “I don't care if you're playing the part of the king, you're still a brother. What do brothers do, lad?”

Fili stood up straight as he could. “Protect their siblings.”

“Good lad,” he said and started walking again. “Now, let's see how well my dearest, darling cousin Dis taught you to speak to a crowd.”

Dain spoke first and his men cheered him. He introduced Fili as the man they would follow to war. The Crowned Prince and Heir of Durin's Folk. Their future king.

Fili had spoken in front of greater numbers of dwarves before on several occasions. He knew how to stand and project and how to keep his hands still. He knew how to wear a smile even though he wanted to do anything else.

“I know you've marched long and hard for many days without much rest, and I fear you will have little now. There are orcs on the horizon. This battle may well begin before the hour is done. I ask you to spend what time you have readying yourselves. We fight for our people today. Azog the Defiler, and the orcs of Moria are our enemy!”

There came loud cries from the dwarves to curse Azog and his kind to the most heinous of deaths.  
“They slaughtered our kin! And they killed our king, my great-grandfather, Thror, King Under the Mountain. This mountain!” he yelled. “This is our second chance to avenge those we have lost and those we still mourn! We fight for Durin's folk! To protect our sacred home!”

The roar of battle cries was deafening. The orcs were close enough now that they could hear them and picked up their pace.

Just as Legolas to beginning to blow his horn to say they were sight the orcs sounded theirs and everyone was snapping to attention, running to their places.

It was time for war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the teaser came out while I was writing this. I had hoped to maybe get a look at Dain but no. So I have no idea really what he's meant to look or act like. So if my description is way off mark whoops.


	12. Seeing Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yavanna, Aulë... Anyone... Please. Keep watching over Durin's sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some gore. It's not excessive, but this is a war.

The shouts of orcs could be heard in the mountain. The twang of bows and clash of shields.

Thorin was not entirely nervous, but he was not calm. He remembered the sounds war as clear as his father's voice saying, “One day you will be king and you will understand.”

He did.

He understood every dwarf, man, and elf lost today fell on him. They were his defeat. This was his fight.

He looked to the company and drew Orcrist from his side. It was a sight to behold, that was certain. Eleven dwarves armed to the teeth and armored like tanks.

“I have no right to ask you to fight for me today, and no right to ask you to follow me. But if you would stand with me, one last time...” He took a deep breath, “We fight for our home. We fight for Erebor!”

“For Erebor!”

 

Coräc swore he was going to fall clear out of the sky. His wings were going to give out any moment. He'd done it though. He'd spoken to the Great Eagle and stuttered the entire time but he agreed to come. Indeed he was flying not far ahead of him at that moment, and the battlefield was coming into view.

The fight had already begun.

There was already so much carnage.

He beat his tired wings faster. Rocks were flying through the air among arrows. He ducked and dived as he tried to find any familiar face.

There were ravens dropping rocks on orcs and running words through the field. Directing healers to the wounded, and spreading word to the soldiers to push left or right.

“The eagles!” he heard shouted clear as a bell below him. “Watch out!” Bilba yelled at the archers, a desperate warning that they not hit them on accident.

Another lobby of arrows flew across the sky and Coräc shrieked before flying away.

Bilba had not stayed near the sidelines. No, she had rushed headlong into the fight. It was a stupid idea, and she kept telling herself that as she cut into the backs of legs and knees of orcs.

She had managed to kill a warg.

Until the day she dies she will be thanking Fili for giving her that small knife. She had String plunged into a warg's hide, but the beast just wouldn't go down. It had her on the ground, baring down on her, his bloody fangs inches from her face, when she remembered it strapped to her leg.

She will never forget the sound of it choking on blood, or the feeling that came over her. It wasn't like the last time. She'd killed that warg on accident. This was for survival.

“This is going to be the end of me,” she swore as she ducked another rock and quickly worked her ring onto her finger.

She didn't see the next rock coming. It smashed into the back of her head and sent her face down into the mud, bleeding heavily. She was out.

 

The dwarves had gotten scattered. Many had managed to remain with their brothers, but some had not. Dori and Nori stood back to back in the thick of battle. They didn't have the luxury of worrying about Ori. Where he was, they didn't know. They couldn't spare half a moments thought or a blade would come crashing down on them. A stray arrow would find its home in their limbs. They grunted words back and forth in khuzdul. Move left. Keep watch above. Duck.

Gloin kept as close to his brother as he could without being on top of him. Oin couldn't hear the orcs to his left, or the shouting ahead to mind the arrows. Gloin kept their heads covered, forcing his brother to duck and dodge and move, as they fought their way to the healer's tents. Oin would do what he did best. He would fight to save lives, and Gloin would fight to defend the healers as they worked.

Bifur went into the fight with one clear thought. The same thought he took into every fight. Find the orcs that ruined his life. The orc that took his speech, and the orc that took his family.

Bifur's family, well, it was a story Bofur never told. How once upon a time his cousin had a wife as pretty as they came, and he had a daughter more precious than any gold or jewel. How an orc raid during the war took their lives. He nearly died looking for revenge. He got an axe buried in his skull.

Bifur wanted to return the favor, and Bofur was not one to deny him. Bifur was berserk. He was wild and Bofur and Bombur could hardly keep up, but they stuck together as they always had.

 

“Oh, Mahal. Mahal!” Ori clenched his eyes shut and swung again. “Oh, please.” He ducked as a rock came flying past his head. The next time he swung the blade it caught the side of the orc's arm. It kicked out and sent Ori flying.

He grabbed him by the arm. Ori couldn't understand the orcish, but what he said was, “An arm for an arm.” He gripped down, harder and harder. Ori screamed.

The snap and crunch of his bones rose his voice another octave.

Across the way Dwalin's head spun.

He was left with a decision then, not that it was much of one.

Thorin was up to his ankles in blood. He could handle himself. Dwalin knew he could handle himself. His job was to protect him, but...

He threw a look over his shoulder and caught Thorin's eyes for a brief moment. He hoped he understood what he had to do as he turned and leapt over bodies.

There was no way he was about to leave Ori to fend for himself.

“Head down!” he barked as he came around, swinging his ax. It found its place under the orc's chin, slashing up through his jaw. Ori scrambled backwards. “What the hell are you doing by yourself. Can you walk?” he asked, not looking back just yet, but looking at another orc that was coming their way. “Can you walk!?” he said louder, turning his head back for second as Ori made it too his feet.

He needed to get him to a healer.

He held a sword in his shaky left hand. His right arm was held stiff and close to his body, bloody and black and bent all wrong. His shoulder was hunched high. “On my mother's beard,” he said taking a step backwards, looking between Ori and the orc coming their way. “Who gave you a claymore? Give me that, quick! Take my ax,” he said as he quickly swapped their weapons. “Alright,” growled. “Let's see what this orc-bastard thinks he's going to do to my One.”

 

Fili was clear on the other side of the fight between Balin and Dain. Find your brother, he was told. So he did what he thought was logical and charged into the middle of the fight. Because history told him his brother was reckless, foolish even. Kili always charged in headfirst, sword out. Whether he'd led the company in, or marched in at Thorin's side, his brother would be in the thick of it.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

All he found there, where the armies met in the middle, was a pale Orc atop a white warg, and he was holding Fili's death warrant.

 

Kili may have gone in at Thorin's side but he was almost immediately lost. As Thorin and Dwalin barreled through he moved around the edge with his bow, firing as he tried desperately to find his brother.

Before he knew it he found himself moving between groups of elves.

“Kili!”

His head whipped around as he heard his named called. Tauriel was there with the elven prince. He took a last shot at an orc and hurried to her side. “Have you seen my brother? Blond,” he said. “He was the blond one.”

“Not since just before we marched. He went in at the head of the dwarves,” she said and looked out over the sea of bodies. It was hopeless trying to spot him.

Kili nodded absently.

“Stick close to us,” she said as she put away her bow and drew her blades. “We're not doing much good out here. We need to go into the fight.”

A roar split the air and Tauriel ducked as she spun to see the source of the sound.

No one quite knew when Beorn had gotten there, but he was already splattered in black blood. He came crashing through the bodies of orcs, throwing them like rag dolls, and howling like a devil.

The monstrous black bear rose up on his back feet and for a moment no one knew quite whose side he was on.

“Don't shoot!” Kili called.

Legolas shouted something in elvish and swore he heard the bear laugh.

Kili knew he could be less than himself when he was a bear, and took a tense step towards him.

“Not to worry, master Kili. I am most in control this day.”

Tauriel looked taken aback at the speaking bear, but cautiously came to stand at Kili's side.

“Let us go into battle, little one,” he said before he charged on. Kili shared a look with Tauriel before running after him.

The way Beorn tore into the orcs was ghastly.

The group found themselves fighting in some kind of improvised formation. Legolas would shoot into the crowd while Kili and Tauriel worked with their swords to draw orcs closer and Beorn would crush them.

Something got shouted above the sounds of the fight and the orc ranks began to split open. It felt like time had slowed in Kili's eyes. The sea of bodies parted and he saw a massive orc who would have stood a head above the rest, astride a black warg. It wasn't Azog, but he'd never heard of another white orc before.

As the bodies moved they parted just enough that through them passed a single arrow.

Tauriel's back was turned and it was headed directly for her.

He shoved her as hard as he could and sent her flying into the mud. She paused, confused that the world was very suddenly in a different position as she stared up at the evening sky.

The yell that shot out Kili jump-started her body and she scrambled to sit up. “No,” she breathed. There was an arrow in the front of his shoulder. A black, poisoned arrow.

He hovered over her, his breathing gone ragged.

“Are you okay?” he said through a clench jaw.

“Kili.”

But he was already falling forward and she caught him in her arms. Legolas already moved ahead, slinging his blades and fighting his way to the orc who shot at them, but losing him in melee.

Beorn rose up with a roar and stood between them and the rest. “We must get him to the healers,” he said. Tauriel was already on her feet, and trying to help Kili along. Frustrated she picked him up and ran, with Beorn hurrying along side them.

Arrows flew and pierced his hide, but he didn't stop. He plowed through orcs and cut a path as best he could until a warg drove on him. It sent him skidding across the field.

Tauriel didn't have the time to worry about the skin-changer, she had to run. She had to save Kili who was already beginning to shake with the poison so close to his heart. His eyes were blown wide with pain.

Tauriel had a job. She had people that she needed to protect.

It had been years, so many years... hundreds since her parents died protecting their lands. In a time when the Greenwood was not so dark and she was still young.

She took a vow as a child, not even waist high, that she would join the guard as they had and she would fight in their honor and memory. She would fight for all those who needed protecting, and she would do all in her power to save those she cared for.

And for whatever reason she cared for Kili.

He was not what she expected of a dwarf. She had known the dwarves of Erebor long ago, and they had not been like him. He was strange to be sure, as all dwarves were, but he did not look at her like a threat or an enemy.

He smiled something true, not just a forced politeness.

He looked at her like she looked at stars.

She...

She needed him to live.

She was nearly there.

The white orc had sent his warg to attack Beorn as he moved to a better vantage point. His name was Bolg, and like his father his mission was the wipe out the Line of Durin.

Across the field, in a dead line of sight, the orc drew back an arrow and it found it's mark in Tauriel's back just as she burst into the tents. All the breath was knocked out of her and she was sent sprawling to the ground at the feet of a dwarvish healer.

 

Azog fought away Dain's soldiers until he was standing alone, sword in one hand and his nasty claw gleaming with blood. The monster of Fili's nightmares. The monster he was taught to fear and hate from day one.

He stepped back as Azog saw him and bared his black teeth. Fili kept throwing knives on his belt and made quick use of them. Three buried themselves into his shoulder and arm, but Azog only thrust his sword into the ground and tore them out with a growl.

Fili charged him, sword drawn. It all happened so quickly Fili isn't sure how he managed to have his blade yanked from his hand or why the earth wasn't under his feet anymore. The pain in his head and neck was excruciating, and he wasn't falling.

He was hanging.

Azog had grabbed him by the hair and lifted him up. He looked into the crowd and said in his language, “Now you will watch the dwarf-runt die, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Fili struggled. His heels caught in the grooves of Azog's scars seeking traction.

Then he heard Thorin's voice screaming his name. His struggle turned into a full panic.

Azog drew back the metal claw of his hand as he said something Fili couldn't understand. Fili wrestled a knife from behind his back and in one quick motion he was free and falling.

His hair fell around his face and into his eyes and he ran from the orc's scream and the claw that managed to scrape against his armor.

 

The orc squealed and died as Ori swung the ax into its neck. His broken arm was pressed roughly against his chest and Dwalin was pushing him from behind. “Let's move, come on!”

Ori did his best to pick up his pace.

“Down!” Dwalin shouted and he ducked as Dwalin swung at another orc. “Nearly there,” he said. “You going to make it?”

“Yes, yes!” he said and continued running.

They skidded to a halt in the mud just outside the tents.

“We need a healer!” Dwalin barked and an elf woman waved from three tents over. “This way!”

“Come on, lad,” Dwalin said and hurried him over.

Ori dropped the ax and grabbed Dwalin with his good arm and pulled him down. He kissed him like it was the last time he'd ever get the chance to see him. It made Dwalin see stars.

The bloodrush of battle had excited something in Ori he hadn't expected. He bounced on his feet, high on adrenaline, and kissed him once more for good measure.

All Dwalin could managed was, “Damn...”

“S-sorry. Not really,” Ori said. “But, well...”

Dwalin laughed, ever so slightly hysterically. “Into the healer, damn it. I swear, if we weren't in the middle of a battle I'd... Go!”

 

Kili and Tauriel were laid side by side on makeshift tables. “I need kingsfoil!” Oin shouted.

Tauriel tried to stay conscious. Kili was somewhere between groans and screams. His breath was coming in sharp gasps and Tauriel fought to turn her head and see him. “Tauriel,” he winced. “I-” he stopped as her eyes closed. She couldn't keep her eyes open, let alone speak. “No,” he ground out. “Tauriel-”

“Where is the athelas!” an elf woman barked. “We're going to lose them!”

An elf was holding down Kili's arms, and a dwarf had his legs. Why, she thought. Why did it have to pierce so close to his heart? Anywhere else and the poison would have been slower. Tauriel barely spared a thought for herself as the same poison was pulsing in her blood, equally close. “Look at me, Kili,” she instructed, cracking an eye open. “Don't look at the arrow. Look at me.”

It was all over before she realized. The arrow was out, the healer had done her work and moved on to taking the arrow out of Tauriel's back.

Beorn came in, grunting and panting, in the shape of a man. He threw the head of Bolg on the ground, a trophy he didn't want but still claimed. “The dwarf and the elf?” he managed to say through breaths.

“Both alive,” an elven man said. “Though I worry for the woman.”

“Beorn!” Kill shot out.

“Lad, you need to be quiet,” a dwarf hushed him.

“No! No, Beorn! Find my brother! Please find my brother!”

“I will do the best I can,” he said and started away.

“Wait!” the elf called, running after him, but it was too late. He was already running full speed, his feet falling like thunder as he became the bear once more. There were three arrows in his back and a nasty gash along his side.

 

Azog swore that the Line of Durin would end. He would kill the king, and kill his heirs. He took up his discarded sword, and drew back as Thorin came running at him. Blades clashed, and Azog was the stronger. Their blades came together a dozen times before Azog's struck body and Thorin screamed.

“Thorin!” Fili had only seen the blood fly. He didn't have the space to think, only to act. He jumped between Azog and his uncle and pointed his sword at the orc's heart like a target.

“Fili, no!”

But he had already begun his charge. He was thrown to the side like a broken play thing. Azog's laugh brought horror to them both.

 

“They're breaking through! We need more men!” Gloin shouted. Ravens were darting here and there trying to round up fighters.

The shouting drug Kili back into conscious, if barely. He was completely delirious.

“Tauriel?”

Her only answer was to look him in the eye. He tried his best to smile. It was crooked and pained, but he did his best.

He felt like he needed to say something.

They were lying here half dead, poisoned for each other. He was convinced he was almost dead. The tent above him was swimming in his dizzy eyes. He didn't know what to say to Tauriel now, and he thinks Bilba would have known the right thing. He wished she were here so he could ask what words would be best.

What do you say to someone when you're going to die?

He wanted to thank her or something. He wanted to say that he liked her.

Nausea hit him and he tried not to vomit.

He'd sat up late nights in Erebor thinking about how she sat by his cell and spoke to him. How she smiled and kept him company and talked about silly things like stars and archery and elvish parties.

And she laughed when he flirted with her, and he'd taken it as a good sign.

She was very kind to him. She was friendly. He would call her a friend... if they made it out of this alive. He liked her. A lot.

He... he might have loved her.

He was an awful dwarf, wasn't he. Dwarfs and elves were supposed it hate each other.

Kili had grown up fascinated with elves, occasionally glimpsing them from afar in his travels. He'd been thrilled to go to Rivendell even if he hid it. Even some part of him liked Mirkwood's kingdom though definitely not the circumstances. But, Mirkwood had Tauriel. She who changed his mind about the stars.

He'd always been quick to fall head over heels. He always felt too strongly at first. Blinded by it. Too much passion. Fire, his mother called it. His heart was a great forge, greater than any she'd ever known, to love so very fiercely so quickly and for that love not to end.

His father had been that way he was told.

Kili loved. He loved with ferocity. And it didn't know the bounds of race. His heart bled for Laketown and the fallen of Mirkwood and for Tauriel.

“If we don't make it out of this, even if we do, I want you to know something,” he said. His hand very slowly crossed the gap between them and he carefully slid his fingers between her's.

He looked at her like she were the stars and moon.

Whatever Kili meant say though was too quiet to be heard as he fell back into sleep and so did she.

 

Bilba was alone and forgotten when she came to. The battle had moved eastward, but not far. The scent of blood made her gag, and there was a fire behind her eyes she could not stop. But she had to move. She had to make it to her feet. Yes, one inch at a time. That was it.

She climbed up the ridge and looked out over the fighting.

How much more could her heart take? She was not made for this death. This carnage.

Gandalf told her in the beginning that if she went on this adventure she would no longer be the hobbit she once was. No. She could never be the same again after witnessing this.

The tears on her face went unnoticed. Somewhere out there were thirteen dwarves, alive or dead. She had to know. She had to find them. She had to try no matter the danger.

It was like in the great stories, the ones Old Took used to tell her. The ones that really mattered. They were full of darkness and danger, and sometimes she was scared to know how they ended. How could the end be happy when so much bad had happened? How could things go back to the way they were before?

How could she ever go back to the way she was before?

But those were the stories that stayed with her. They were full of darkness and doubt, as nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Sometimes it was cold and it was full of shadow. But in the end of his tales it was only ever a passing thing. Even darkness must fade as the new day dawns.

The folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, but they didn't. She had lots of chances, and here she stood. They kept going because they were holding to something.

And so was she.

That there was good and love in this world, and it was worth fighting for.

Dying for.

Stories are told and they are written by people with pen and ink. And ink is harsh. It's black and it stains and it is nearly impossible to erase.

Some stories were written to have unhappy endings.

But if ever she learned anything from her Old Took she learned that some endings could be changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter but the next chapter will possibly be posted as soon as later tonight. Maybe sometime tomorrow. Thanks for sticking with me until now.


	13. A Baggins Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some stories were written to have unhappy endings, and some stories were meant to be changed.

Happy endings are not a requirement for fairy tales.

Old Took had told her that once when she was just a girl. His tale of the great hero and the beast ended in tragedy. The hero slew the monster and saved the princess locked in his tower. He saw her safely to his companions and fell to his wounds. In a field of flowers they buried the white knight and the princess mourned.

Bilba had cried on her grandfather's lap, demanding a change. Retell the ending. Make it right!

What he told her then was wisdom she was too young yet to understand, but now she did.

“A story does not always end in a happily ever after. Happy endings are not a requirement for fairy tales.”

Bilba had sniffled and buried her head into his chest.

“We root for the hero, we follow and trust them with our lives. In the end the hero will always save the day for us, but sometimes he cannot save himself. That is why we always support him, but we never fall in love. For heroes rescue princesses and queens. They slay dragons. But we, Bilba, my dear, we are his warriors. We are following him on his quest, from start to end. If the story is to be changed, it is you who must do the changing. It is you who must step up and fight for the hero.”

“But what about the beast?”

“You will fall in the hero's place. He will go on, and marry the princess, and have a happy ending. But if you die there are no more stories. No more quests. There will always be more heroes. Sometimes,” he smiled, “Sometimes the hero is worth fighting for, but you have to be certain.”

“I don't wanna die, grandda.”

“Shh,” he held her close. “Shh now, you won't.”

“But... but I have to. I'm going to slay the beast and save the hero so he can have the happily ever after version.” She pulled back to look at him. “That's what the hero's companions are supposed to do, right? They were supposed to go and help him, even though he told them to stay back. I think this one is worth fighting for.”

Old Took laughed and ruffled her curls. “Alright then, Bilba. Okay. Well, the valiant knight rushed into battle after our hero...”

 

Bilba was no valiant knight. She didn't consider herself even vaguely heroic.

She was a coward, and she was stumbling invisible among the proper heroes who were fighting back the orcs.

Her head burned and her feet ached. Her arms were heavy... but she had to move. The fear ate away at her breath, and every step screamed in her. She had to move. Somewhere out there were the heroes of her story and a pale orc. She needed to be there, even if Thorin threatened her with pain of death. This was war. In war you did what you had to do.

Behind her came a battle cry and a lobby of arrows from the cliff side. She ducked her head and covered herself with her arms as she ran behind a large orc who was swinging at a man with a club. She hit the ground as arrows rained mere feet away. She scrambled away and ducked by a dwarf and past an elf. She climbed over a fallen man and then she saw them.

Thorin was between Azog and Fili. Fili was charging past Thorin and being thrown to the side like he were nothing.

Thorin raised Orcrist as Azog swung down on him and with a scream the sword flew out of his grasp. He fell to one knee, gripping his arm.

Bilba is certain she yelled.

In fact she let out a battle cry that would have made Bullroarer Took proud.

She was also certain she must have been suicidal. She charged forward, vaulting over bodies, Sting drawn, and snatched up Thorin's sword. With one hand she plunged Sting into Azog's thigh, and took hold of Orcrist in both hands. She drew back and came down hard across his back. The cut was nothing more than a scratch. She scrambled away and pushed the sword into Thorin's hands screaming at him to get up. To fight. For the love of all that was good in this world he had to get up!

Azog was rising again and Bilba panicked. She grabbed for Sting, trying to yank it free, but was too scared to grasp the hilt tightly enough to pull.

Fili charged from the side, finally on his feet once more. His blades tore twin slashes down Azog's side and he dropped down.

Bilba wasn't watching Thorin as he rose, Orcrist in his left hand. She was watching Fili as he drew back for another strike. That's when Thorin swung down. That's when Azog's head fell free of his shoulders and landed at Bilba's feet. She looked up at a blood soaked dwarf. A king. She nearly fell unconscious for a second time that fight when he stepped towards her, his sword falling to the wayside, and grabbed at her. His hands fumbled in the air until he caught her by the sleeve.

“Take off that cursed ring,” it was low and harsh and she fumbled for her hands and stuffed the little ring into her pocket.

The world regained its color and the clash of shields was sharp in her ears. Thorin crushed her to his bleeding chest. “What sort of fool are you? Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

He brought a hand up to cradle her head against his shoulder. His hands were so bloody he couldn't tell where his blood ended and her's began. His touch burned in her brain and set fire behind her eyes and she lost herself to the darkness once more.

“Bilba? Bilba!”

Thorin shook her and Fili, who was standing on weak legs, heard the desperation in his voice. “Stop it,” he said, grabbing Thorin's wrist. “Don't.”

Thorin face was drained of color. Fili gently took the hobbit from his uncle's arms.

“Get her far away from here,” he said weakly. “Fili, go.”

Fili nodded mutely and lifted Bilba up and over his shoulder, leaving one hand free for a sword.

Thorin bit the inside of his cheek and stepped after them, grabbing Fili's shoulder. “Mizim. Bilba,” he pressed his lips to her head. “Don't you dare die. Don't die,” he begged. He feared this was his last chance to speak to her. “I love you. Now, go. Fili, go!”

Fili took off as fast as he could and Thorin turned back and lifted Azog's head out of the mud and blood. The orcs around him had fallen back, but now, as Thorin gripped Azog's head in his hands and raised it high with a war cry, they scattered. Their commander fallen, their leader dead, they were disorganized.

 

Fili stumbled as he carried Bilba across the field, but he made it across the way without attacks. He laid her carefully against the rocks at a small ledge. Above her was the charred trunk of an old tree. Dotted around were small white flowers that took hold of the stone.

He finally took a breath and dropped on a knee, tired. Too tired to stand, but he had no time to rest.

“You'll be safe here. I'm going to make sure of it,” he said standing up. His eyes scanned the field for his brother.

A deafening roar came and a massive black bear was running alongside the army and towards him, falling into the form of a man by his side. Before Beorn could say a word Fili was barking orders. “Stay here! Protect her with your life.”

“Spoken,” he paused for a harsh breath, “Like a king. Go, I will keep her safe.”

And he was running off while Beorn fell back into a bear, three arrows in his back. He may have been sent with the intention of keeping him safe, but he could not. He could not go into battle at his side. There wasn't much left he could do. Charging into the last clash was beyond him now.

He could bash away a few orcs. He could stand her guard.

 

As night fell on the battle the orcs set what land they could ablaze. Brush and shrub on the hills and the ridge.

They lit the bodies of the dead to shine on their fight. The half moon rose, glowing white, and people were sick on the field from the smell of burnt flesh and hair.

The ravens did what they could to bring water to douse the flames, but they were left to pray for rain from a cloudless sky.

“Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!” Fili called. “These are our lands, we stand our ground!” His sword was risen high as he ran in front of the forming ranks.

He took his place at his uncle's side. Thorin rose his sword in his good hand, and tired his best not to waver on his feet. “Rally to me! My brothers! My friends! My allies! Stand with me!”

The armies of dwarves, men and elves stood together. They were forming a line for one final charge. One last stand this day.

Some of the orcs formed their own line, but many did not bother.

It had been a hopeless last stand for the orcs. Their leaders were dead and they were outnumbered. Many tried to flee and were picked off by archers, or crushed and thrown by eagles. Swarms of ravens would dive on them, pecking and pulling.

Those with the courage left to stand were shouting in their black tongue for death and ruin. They beat their feet and the butts of theirs spears on the ground and it came like thunder.

The land itself seemed to let out a breath. The tension snapped like a bowstring, and the armies broke. From the side Beorn let out a monumental roar while the horns of men and elves rang out among the dwarven battle cries.

Swords sang and shields were splintered.

They were victorious.

 

When Bilba first came to she was surrounded by something warm and soft. She almost didn't want to get up.

“Be-Beorn?” she said. It had to be him. She couldn't imagine a random bear would lie down beside her. “Wake up,” she said and gently shook him. “Hey.”

He groaned, but did not wake.

She frowned and took a few steps away. There were bodies at her feet and there was blood in her eyes. The scorching pain in her head had grown more than she could stand. She was half blind when she started picking her way over corpses and towards the lights in the distance. Stars? No. Fires, she realized. Fires and tents.

She was vaguely aware of shouting as she saw Gloin and Bofur running towards her.

“No, no. Stop moving.” Bofur didn't stop until he was an inches from her and grabbing her under the arms. “No walking now, Bilba. Oh, by the Maker.” He could hardly see her face for the blood. He couldn't tell if it was still coming or not. It was dark and sticky in her hair. He was looking her up and down and around her skull. At least in body she seemed okay, but her head... he couldn't even tell where she'd been struck.

Gloin came up behind her and lifted her carefully and rested her head on his broad shoulders. “Aye, we've got you now. The battle's over, lass. We've won.”

“My head hurts,” she said.

Bofur let out a half crazed laugh. “I reckon it does. You'll be just fine, Bilba. We're going to get you patched up.” Tired as she was she missed the worry in his voice. The unsurety.

“What were you thinking?” Gloin said.

“Someone has to help Beorn,” she said pointing vaguely into the dark. “You have to-”

Bofur hushed her. “There are more coming. He'll be taken care of.” He fussed over her the entire walk back, but she didn't pay any attention.

“How is everyone?” she interrupted him.

“I don't...” he started.

“Too early to know,” Gloin said.

“What?” she struggled in his grip. She wanted to stop. She wanted to stand still, but Gloin kept her weak body in his arms.

Bofur smacked Gloin's shoulder. “What he means is that everyone is alive. A little banged up,” he said. “Everyone is going to be fine.”

“I saw Thorin and Fili get hurt,” she said, the memory coming back to her.

“Fili's fine,” Bofur assured her. “A few cuts. He's just fine. Some of us are... a little worse for wear,” he admitted.

“Who?” Bilba asked but Bofur didn't say anything. “Damn you! Tell me who!”

Gloin coughed. “Kili's going to pull through, so don't you worry. But he found himself on the wrong end of a bad arrow. He is going to be fine. He was awake last I saw him.”

Bofur frowned, and his chest felt like it was going to explode. “Bifur took a bad knock on the head. He's not awake, but he's hardly dead.”

“Everyone else is okay?” but she didn't get an answer. “Take me to Thorin.”

“Lass, you need a doctor. You need to rest.”

“Then bring him to me!” she snapped, but Bofur wouldn't look her in the eye. “What aren't you telling me? Take me to Thorin! You take me to him now! I'm fine. Take me to him!” she shouted.

They were just coming into the camp and Bilba was growing more frantic.

“I need to see him, damn you! Damn you both! Take me to him. Please, Gloin. Please, take me to him. He's an idiot and he's gotten himself really hurt, hasn't he? How bad is it?”

“Bilba, we need to take you to Oin,” Bofur said and tried to quiet her. “You're hurt. You're bleeding.”

“I don't care!”

“He's going to be fine,” Gloin said.

“Please,” she begged. “If you don't take me to him,” she said, “I'll go on my own and no one can stop me if they can't see me.”

He heaved a sigh and stopped in the middle of the tents. “You have three minutes. If I so much as think you're going to be sick, or fall asleep, or pass out, I'm picking you up and taking you to my brother and he's going to strap you to a bed,” Gloin said. He turned to Bofur. “You go find him, because she needs to see him as soon as she can.”

As Bofur took off Gloin slipped between tent flaps and into a dimly lit area. Gandalf was at Thorin's side. There was so much blood.

He looked awful. He looked paper white, almost frail. He looked dead.

His right arm from wrapped elbow to wrist in thick gauze, but it still bled through. His torso was bound from chest to hip.

Gloin eased her into a chair beside him. “Bilba!” Gandalf stepped around and grabbed her by the shoulders. “She needs a healer immediately.”

“I need to be here,” she said and glared at him.

“She has three minutes, and your time is ticking, lass,” Gloin said and pulled the wizard aside to give Bilba at least the illusion of privacy. “How is he?”

He looked back at Bilba who was covering her mouth and fighting tears away. “I've done all I can for now. I'm waiting for the surgeon. He needs stitches to close this up better. Bandages will not hold him together through the night.”

Gloin growled. “He's the king. Are you telling me he can't be stitched up first?”

“He was one of the last off of the field, Gloin,” Gandalf said, he it came out more tensely than he wanted. “The next free surgeon will be here. He is their next priority.”

Bilba's headache didn't quite block out their words. She reached out and held his hand. She begged him to wake up. For all that was good and right in this world, he had to wake up.

It couldn't end like this. Not after everything they'd been through.

It wasn't fair.

“You have to wake up you great idiot. What am I supposed to do now? What am I going to do if you die on me?”

And his words, lost until now somewhere in the sleepy dregs of her mind came forward. _You'll live and you'll cope._

“Don't you dare leave me here. Don't make me wake up alone again.”

Gandalf stooped down by her side. “He will live, Bilba,” he swore.

She was half blind for the hair and blood in her eyes. She bent over to look at his face more closely and the nausea hit her like a wave.

“Gloi-” she breathed. “I'm gon-”

He jolted across the space and caught her before she even began to slump in her chair. “Oh, by the Maker!” he ran out of the tent with her. He knew he shouldn't have listened to her. “Oin is going to kill me!”

 

The sun was rising and the colors of the sky bled like the soldiers.

Troops of elves were marching into the woods carrying their most gravely wounded who needed better conditions and better medicine.

Thorin clawed at his bed and bit back screams as the surgeon shoved the needle over and over through his side. In and out, in and out. Suck in a breath and try not to scream. They had nothing left to dull the pain. They poured whiskey over wounds to disinfect.

But Thorin knew he would live through it. He'd suffer on. He'd suffered worse.

He knew well that he could have died on the field.

Balin ambled in just as the healer was leaving and instructing Thorin not to get out of his bed. So, of course, he was immediately trying to sit up and shouting about the pain.

“Lie down,” Balin said. “You nearly got your intestines cut out of you.”

“Hardly,” he said, but managed to sit up.

“You are split from your ribs to your thigh,” he said.

Thorin grimaced and nodded. “It wasn't that deep, but I should have worn more than just the old chain mail.”

Balin shook his head with a small laugh. “You're an idiot.”

“What's the news, Balin,” Thorin said seriously.

“The orcs are gone. Azog and Bolg are dead. Our alliance is still standing. A number of elves have taken their worst wounded to Mirkwood and we've been moving the worst of the dwarves and men into Erebor to keep them from the chill.”

Thorin nodded.

“As for the company, we're all alive,” he said. “Some broken bones among us. Bifur spent most of the night unconscious. He woke up not long ago. Kili is awake.”

“What happened to Kili?”

“He got shot... with a poisoned arrow. It could have been a lot worse, especially if he'd stayed on the field for any length of time. As Oin tells it an elf brought him in. He recognized her from Mirkwood as one of the prison guards. And she was shot in the back while she brought him in.”

“He'll recover?”

“Aye. He says he feels sick, and he's sore, but he's already on his feet. No one can keep him down. Every time they catch him up they put him back in bed,” he smiled. “He's as bad as ever. He can't use his left arm much right now,” he admitted. “But it'll be fine with time.”

Thorin nodded. “I want to see him.”

“You will.”

“And Fili?”

“He's fine. A few cuts but nothing too bad.”

And now came the question he dreaded. Balin knew it was coming. “How is Bilba?”

“She's been mostly asleep. Oin assures me it's sleep and not that she's unconscious, though I don't know how he tells the difference. They've cleaned her up. She's got a nasty cut on her head that needed stitching,s and a concussion. He thinks her unconsciousness came more from the blood loss. She's going to be fine,” he said.

“Take me to her.”

“No,” he said and Thorin's face crumpled. “Not right now. You need rest. You aren't even fit to walk alone. And she needs to rest. She is well taken care of,” he promised. “Fili's been at her side all night. And I'm pretty sure Kili's slipped off and is with her too. All of us on our feet have been to see her. Even dwarves from the Iron Hills have stopped to give her their well wishes. She's become a bit of a camp celebrity.”

“Balin,” Thorin started.

“Aa,” he held up a hand. “You're going to stay in this bed until Oin says otherwise. You can see her later. For what it's worth,” he said, “She came to see you. Bofur said she cursed him and Gloin out and made them bring her over before she got any medical attention.” Balin sighed and scooted closer in his chair. He looked at Thorin very seriously, because the battle aside he still had his sins to atone for. “You did wrong by her. Now, pay attention. Any dwarf-woman would have your head and it would within her rights. Bilba obviously still loves you. You had better make this right.”

 

Fili kept jerking awake as his head nodded.

A sharp cough came from beside him and he looked up to find Dain. “Go to sleep.”

“In a little while,” Fili said. “Someone should be here when she wakes up.” He looked at the next cot over where Kili had fallen back to asleep. Fili had pulled it over from some other tent, but he hardly remembered doing it. It had happened in a daze

Dain sighed. No matter what he said, he knew it wouldn't change the boy's mind. “Well, you did good yesterday. Very good.” He gave him look over. He looked like hell. “How're you holding up?”

Fili rubbed his head, his fingers going though his butchered locks. “I'm alive at least. My hair will grow back, I guess. I'm fine.”

Dain nodded. “I'm right proud of you,” he said. “Aye, your mother is going to know how well you did here.”

“Don't make her worry about me.”

He snorted. “If I know your mother, and trust me I know her very well, she's already worn holes through the floor pacing and worrying over you. How long have you been away from home?”

“Half a year. Maybe a little more.”

He nodded again. “I'll be writing to her as soon as I can get someone to deliver it. You'd best write her as well.”

“I will.”

He coughed again. He had a reason for coming here, and while he did mean to see Fili, he'd come to see Bilba. “Here,” he said and held out Sting. “They found this out on the field. I was told it belongs to her. Our savior of the hour,” he said. “Is it true, she saved you both?”

Fili nodded, and took Sting to prop up against the edge of the cot. “Azog was about to kill Thorin, and she showed up just in time. I was on the ground, I couldn't have gotten to him in time.”

He smiled and turned to her sleeping body. “I thank you for saving my cousin's lives. I wish you the swiftest of recovery.” He gave Fili a pat on the shoulder. “Get some rest when you can.”

 

When she woke it was early evening. Kili was there, and Fili.

“Bilba, I'm so sorry,” Kili cried. “We all love you. You have to know that, right? So, please wake up. Please wake up, Bilba.”

Fili wrapped an arm around his brother. “She knows,” he said. “She knows, little brother.”

“I'm sorry we let this happen,” Kili said still talking to her. “We should have protected you better. Thorin's been calling for you and I don't know of you want to see him after everything. He's sorry. And I know that doesn't fix anything. Sorry isn't a magic spell.”

But Bilba didn't care. Hobbits don't hold grudges. Not for long.

“I'm sorry,” she said through a dry throat, her eyes still shut. She couldn't see the relief that poured over them.

“Don't be sorry,” Fili choked. “Why are you sorry? Are you okay? Do you hurt?”

“My head hurts.” She cracked one eye and was blessed that it wasn't bright out. “Water?” she asked.

Kili had it and Fili started to lift her head.

“I can sit,” she said and started to push herself up. Fili helped her get upright, and she drank slowly. “Thank you.”

When she looked Kili was trying to wipe the tears from his face.

“Don't cry,” she said. “I don't want to know why you're crying.” Her heart was cold in her chest. She didn't want to know what had happened.

“We're happy,” Kili blubbered and buried his face into her shoulder. “I thought you were going to die.”

Oh. Oh, her sweet boys. She wrapped her arms around him and hushed him. “Oh, Kili.” She rubbed circles on his back. “Hush now. Everything is okay. It's all okay, I promise.”

She looked to Fili and motioned him to come closer. She wrapped him in a hug too. “It's okay,” she whispered. The boy cried into her hair. All at once he was five years old and had no shame in his tears. He'd been holding back for so long. He wasn't a prince but a child who ached and needed comfort from his sister and longed for his mother. “Shh, shh,” she rocked slightly. “You brave idiots. What am I going to do with you? Big sisters are supposed to keep you safe.”

Kili laughed as he wiped his eyes again. “Surely you're the little sister.”

“I'm the big sister if I say I am.”

She smoothed out Fili's hair. It was jagged and uneven and she didn't want to ask what had happened. He just clung tighter as she gently ran fingers through his locks. He didn't want to let her go.

“Are you both okay?”

“We're fine,” Kili swore, and Bilba knew it was a lie. His chest was bandaged and his arm was in a sling.

“And everyone else?”

“Alive. We're all alive. And awake now that you've woken up.” He picked at the edge of the cot with his good hand. “Uncle's been asking after you. He's been really worried. Do you think you can walk?” Kili asked. “Or... I mean, do you even want to see him? If you don't we understand.”

“I might need help walking,” she said.

“You don't have to see him,” Fili mumbled into her shoulder. “It's his fault you got hurt.”

“I went into battle on my own,” she told him. “He did hurt me, but I'm too worried about him to care right now. I know that moron got himself hurt badly.”

He finally sat back from her. “He's sorry. He's so sorry he cut off his braids. He doesn't deserve you.”

“Maybe not, but I get to decide that.”

Fili nodded. “He's in the next tent.”

They helped her over, and he was awake when she came in but he couldn't look at her. Wouldn't. She sank down into the chair by his bed and the brothers quietly slipped out, though they didn't want to.

“Don't you dare tell me to leave,” she said. “Not after everything. I need to be here.”

He was quiet and turned his face away. He'd spent most of the day agonizing over what he'd done to her, and he'd come to a decision on how to handle it. He didn't imagine seeing her would hurt so much though, knowing he'd have to say what he was going to say. He wasn't sure he could do this.

She shouldn't have come to him. Why would she lower herself to that? He was rust, and she was... worth the world.

“Thorin?” She sighed and looked away from him. _Sorry_ , she thought. _This is sorry?_ Her heart hurt. Her whole body hurt because he couldn't even look at her. He just turned to stare at the wall. “If you won't speak, then I will. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I took your stone. I should have found a better way to...” she sighed again. “It's pointless to explain myself. I did what I thought was right. I'm not sorry that I went to them for help. Thorin...” She looked at him, but with his face turned from her she couldn't make out anything. “If you don't want to talk to me that's fine. I'll go once I'm done. You won't have to worry about me again,” and she choked on tears then. “I still love you. I still do and they'll call me a fool for it.” She wiped her eyes but it did little good. “I understand you were sick. I knew it and I tried my best to make you better and I failed you. So, I'm sorry. But sick or not I got hurt. In time I'll forgive that. I don't even know if it matters to you if I do or not. You won't even look at me! I guess, just, I wish we could start over. That's all. If you want your beads back I'll leave them here or... or give them to Fili or Kili to give to you if you'd rather I just go now. At least say _something_. I know you're awake. Just nod if you want me leave. Something!” she pleaded. “I can't take this.” She buried her face in her hands. “You're so frustrating! I hate you sometimes!” She slammed her fists into her lap and turned to him. “Talk to me! I'm sorry for what I did! Isn't that enough for you!? What more do I have to do? Is there some stupid dwarven penance I have to do?! Talk to me!” she shouted.

She was sorry? Mahal, what had he done? He'd broken her. He'd ruined her. He took the very person he loved and hurt her until she was the sorry one. It was twisted. He was disgusting. He was going to be sick.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called for you. You should go,” he said so quietly she could barely hear him. He wasn't worthy her. He should have died in the battle.

It shattered what was left of her heart.

“That's it? What I did was so bad that... That's just it? There's nothing I can do to be forgiven? I... at least want to part on good terms. Can't you at least lie and tell me it's okay?” She cried. She cried until she was hoarse and her eyes were red. “Do you really hate me that much? Did you tell Kili and Fili lies just to get me here so you could hurt me again?”

If her knees weren't too weak to stand on she would have left. She would've gone and walked and never looked back. She would have gone home and crawled into her bed and never come out again. But she couldn't stand. She couldn't even hold up her head.

“I wish I had died,” he said. “Because there is nothing in this world I could ever do to be worthy of your forgiveness. I wish I'd left you in the Shire where you belong. I don't deserve to look at you, or be near you, let alone hear your voice. You are right. You are a fool. No one should ever love me. Certainly not now and certainly not you. Never,” he said. “Never think anything here was your fault. You are alive and loved and have nothing to ask forgiveness for. That's why you should leave. You will not find happiness here. Go home to your hills and smile again. Please, just go.” It gutted him as much as the gash in his side to say it.

“I want to stay. You told me I could stay. You wanted me to stay here, remember! Please. Please don't send me away.”

“I have no right to ask anything of you, but I would ask you never see me again. It will be better for you.”

“You're right,” she snapped. “You don't have the right.” She was shaking, and she didn't know if it was exhaustion or anger or sadness. She buckled and curled in on herself. “You won't even give me the dignity of looking at me. Why should I listen to anything you say?!” She reached back and pulled until the beads came out of her hair and she stared at them. “I didn't run into the middle of a war for someone I didn't think was worthy, you clothead. Now, give me your hand!”

He sighed.

“Look at me!”

Finally, he turned his head to look at her. Her head swathed in bandages and her throat purple and blue. Her face was red and streaked with tears. If looks could kill he'd be dead.

“Now, give me your hand.”

He slowly lifted his hand towards her and she put the beads into his palm.

“You listen to me, Thorin rocks-for-brains Oakenshield, those beads are mine. You're going to give them back to me one day. Our courtship ended. That doesn't mean we can't try again. Okay? And you answer me this time.”

“Bilba, I-”

She cut him off. “I'm only going to except one answer.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek and didn't speak.

She huffed. “Fine then. I'll come back when you're ready to talk to me like a sensible adult.” She grimaced and forced herself up on wobbly knees. “Whichever one of you is out there, would you help me?” she said towards the front of the tent, knowing at least one of the boys sat outside. Kili came in instantly and wrapped an arm around her. She turned to look over her shoulder as she left. “I will be back,” she said. “I'm not leaving.”

 

She exhausted herself by getting worked up with Thorin and slept until the next morning.

Fili was finally sleeping when she woke up. He was finally too tired to keep his eyes open. Kili was sitting up by his side, but she could tell his thoughts where elsewhere.

She brushed a hair off of Fili's forehead and looked over to Kili. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he said distracted.

“What's wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.”

“Right.”

“It's just... Tauriel. They took her away back to Mirkwood first thing with the worst injured. I'm worried is all. She got poisoned protecting me and now she might be dying.”

“You were poisoned protecting her too,” she said gently.

“Not as badly. I mean I feel sick but I'm fine,” he said. But he was pale and looked shaken as a leaf in autumn.

“You are not,” she said. “You were shot in the arm. Poisoned. You're very lucky you're alive, let alone out of bed.”

“She was shot in the back.”

Bilba nodded quietly. “I'm sure she'll pull through. Do you... do you want to write her a letter? So she'll have it when she's better to read. I'm sure she's worried about how you are. I know if I risked my life for someone I'd want to know they're okay,” she said.

“You did risk your life,” he said completely unamused.

“I did. It makes me the expert. She's going to want to know you're okay.”

He hummed. “I'm not good at writing letters. They're always dull. I... No. It's nothing.”

She stared at him and waited.

“It's just... None of the others would understand really. I like her, even if she is an elf. I like her a lot, I think. I've thought about her since we got out of Mirkwood. I know it's childish. She probably hasn't thought of me at all. I thought we hit it off though, considering.”

She smiled and nodded carefully. “You want to go, don't you.”

“I have too many people here who need looking after...” he said watching his brother.

“But you do want to go,” she said softly. “I understand. You're in no condition though.”

He nodded. “I just want to help her however I can.”

She looked him over and sighed. “Give it a few days. If you're well enough and you want to leave I won't stop you. I can't say anything for anyone else, but I understand,” she said as she watched Fili sleep. His brows furrowed with his dreams and she gently hushed him with the words of an old hobbit lullaby.

When he was still again she give him a kiss on the forehead. She stood and did the same to Kili. She hugged him to her chest for a long moment, and carded fingers through his hair. “I'll do my best to take care of them for you, and I'll keep Fili from trying to follow you away.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and let out a shattered sob. Just one. The tears of a tired boy ready for the world to go back to normal. Too tired to even cry.

“Shh, nadad. Shh.”

 

She left Kili so that he could sleep more and found herself checking in on the company. While she'd been told everyone was okay, she had still yet to see for herself.

Bifur was awake when she came in. He said a few things to her and waved excitedly. Bofur was sitting beside him, his back to her as she came in. He turned to look over his shoulder and was already grinning ear to ear. “Bilba! Come over here! Listen to this.” He was practically bouncing with excitement as he offered her his chair and went to get another. “It's not much yet, and it might take a minute before he can manage it again. Can you believe he's speaking in Westron!? It's not much, mind. Just a word or two gets through the khuzdul.”

“That's wonderful,” she said. “What have you been able to say?” she asked Bifur.

Bofur beamed. “Well he managed to swear at a doctor. And he said something about his head hurting. What was it you said?” he asked. “My bloody axe hurts!” He laughed and Bifur nodded, still smiling. “Axe was in khuzdul,” he said.

Bifur said something and Bofur shook his head. “That wasn't rude. It was true. You did say it khuzdul. He wants you to think he managed the whole sentence without.”

“You'll get it eventually. I know you will,” she smiled. “What did it? The knock to your head?”

“They hit the axe!” Bofur said. “Scared me to death. I thought he was going to drop dead the second it happened.”

Bifur said something that made Bofur laugh but ended with tapping the side of his head. His accent was thick and his words slow, but she definitely understood him. “Was head knock, Bilba.”

 

Only three of the company were still bedridden, and they were antsy and ready to get up. There were a few broken bones here and there. Bofur had broken his hand, and Bombur had broken his foot.

Dwalin was still in bed and complaining about his cracked ribs when she poked her head in. Ori's arm had been broken in two places, but he was sitting by Dwalin's bed, rolling his eyes. “It's not that bad,” Ori said.

“They won't even let me out of this bed. Of course it's bad. I'm going to go crazy.”

“It's not like you're here alone. I've been here all day, and I'll not be leaving anytime soon.”

Dwalin laughed. “The cot's not big enough for two.”

Ori smacked his arm with his good hand. “Don't even start. You're hurt.”

“Oh, aye, I'm dying,” he said and clutched at his heart and feigned weakness. “There's not a cure but a bigger bed and someone to share it with.”

“You big baby.”

“Oi!”

“You two are terrible,” Bilba finally said and they both turned to look at her. “Like a pair of tweens.”

Dwalin snorted. “Says the girl who would rather black out than see the healers because she needs to make sure someone she was assured was very much alive was actually alive.”

“Shut up,” she frowned. “I just wanted to see if you were both okay. I'll leave you to whatever you were doing,” she said.

She nearly ran into Dori as she was leaving. His eye was twitching as he caught sight of his brother and Dwalin. Bilba held up her hands. Before she could say anything he crossed his arms. “I'll let it slide for today.” He gave her a look over and hugged her. “I heard you were up, and I wanted to see you before I left.”

“Where are going?” she was suddenly worried.

“Oh, just out there,” he said pointing to the field. “Nori went out earlier or he'd be here to see you too. Don't fret. We're looking for survivors.”

 

Gandalf was in a healer's tent with Oin and Gloin. His arm was in a sling. Her heart clenched when she saw Beorn laying on a cot, bloody bandages lying loose around his body. Oin was bent over him applying an antibiotic to a hole in his back.

“Gandalf?” she looked up.

“Oh, you're up. How are you?”

“I've got a headache, but I'm fine. What happened to Beorn?”

“I got shot,” he said as he twisted his head to see her. “And how are you faring, little Bunny?”

“I'm well enough.”

“Good. Your prince would kill me if I let anything bad happen to you,” he smiled, but it quickly became as wince as Oin prodded a sore spot. “Master dwarf, I have told you not to do that.”

Gandalf put an arm on her back. “Let's go somewhere a little less noisy. I'd like to talk.”

He took her back into her tent, both Fili and Kili completely asleep inside, and she thought for a minute he meant to put her back in bed too. Instead just smiled and sat down beside her and picked up her sword.

“Before you say anything, I need to ask a question,” Bilba said.

“Anything.”

“No one knows anything about it. Please tell me you know what happened Coräc.”

Gandalf smiled. “Brilliant young bird, he is. Possibly the fastest flier I know of. He flew clear to the Misty Mountains and back. He is incredibly tired and resting at Ravenhill. I'm sure he'll around as soon as he's awake.”

“Good. I was scared. And what of Bard? I haven't seen him around.”

“He's well. A bit battered, but well. He's been very busy.” Gandalf had been meeting with him, Thranduil and Balin not long ago trying to decided the next best course of action. “Now, I heard about the ultimatum you gave Thorin.”

“Oh, you mean about not leaving?”

He smiled. “Yes, and about those courting beads. I have to admit, I thought you'd be going home after all of this. Isn't that what you said?”

“Sometimes I don't know what I want,” she said. “Right now I want to see all of my friends well again. And, I want to see Thorin and myself back on good terms. If we never court again, well there is hardly anything I can really do. I was upset when I said all of that. I just don't want to leave things this bad between us if I can. I did mean what I said before though. I'll never stand between him and some treasure again. If the day ever comes again I will leave... and I don't think I'll look back.”

“A good plan.”

“How'd you hear about me saying that anyway, if I may ask?”

“You were quite loud,” he said stroking his beard. “And Kili also tends to gossip. Dori may have found out... and he gossips a good deal more. I'm sure half of the camp knows. You've become a bit of a celebrity. A hero.”

She shook her head. “Hardly. I was barely part of the battle at all. I wasn't awake for most of it.”

“This is your story, Bilba Baggins. Who are you if not the hero?”

She didn't know anymore. She was here on his whim and had made it this far through only her luck and some literal magic.

But stories of journeys and quests come with the hero, and the monster. A someone who needed saving. A band of companions. The knights and the hunters and the loyal soldiers.

She wasn't the hero. She might have bought Thorin and Fili some time but... she didn't save the day.

“I'm just a hobbit.”

Gandalf put Sting into her hands and gave her a pat on the arm. “Why can you not be both? Not every hero must slay a dragon, or reclaim a mountain. The deeds of ordinary folk can be for more heroic sometimes. One day I think you'll understand that kindness and love can be more inspiring than a man with a sword.”

“You sound like Old Took.”

He smiled. “And so I should. I told him almost the exact same thing once, though it was in reference to your mother, I admit. Gerontius may have had many great adventures, but he did not save lives. And if I hear you even think to say you have not saved any lives along this journey then I will have you put back in bed until your head has healed and you see sense.”

“Fine, fine. I suppose I have made some difference.” She smiled and turned her sword over in her hands. “It's a nice little sword,” she said. “And now it's been to battle.”

“And done great deeds,” Gandalf added.

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose it has. I do think it deserves an inscription, don't you? Much like Glamdring and Orcrist have.”

“That sounds like a fine idea.”

 

Balin, she learned was also out on the field with Dain, combing the dead for living.

Bombur was sitting at a fire cooking something when she came up. Bofur was with him trying to slice a potato with his good hand.

“Here,” she said and took it from him. “I can do it.”

“Thank you, lass. I would have been here all night.”

She smiled and settled down with a bowl of vegetables and a knife. “How is Bifur?”

“Fell asleep not too long ago. I didn't get any more words out of him, but he tried. He hasn't been this enthusiastic about trying to retrain his tongue since just after he lost it.”

She nodded. “I'm glad at least something good came out of all this fighting.”

“I appreciate the help,” Bombur said. “But shouldn't you be resting?”

Bilba shook her head. “Trust me, this helps me more than you know. It keeps my mind off of everything.”

Bombur nodded. “Don't push yourself.”

“Oh, I have enough people running around after me asking if I'm okay, if I need to sit down. If I need anything I will ask.”

Bofur laughed. “No you won't. I know for a fact you won't. You never do. You didn't ask for help after your first run in with Azog, you didn't ask for help when you were blind in the forest, and you wouldn't take any help when we were locked in Mirkwood. We had to force you to take help when you got sick. Do I need to recount more instances? Because there are more.”

She held up her hands. “Okay, okay! I get it,” she said and started adding the vegetables into the soup.

 

She had two bowls in her hands as she ducked into Thorin's tent.

“Bilba, wha-”

“Look, I've made soup,” she said, cutting him off. “Well, sort of. Now, before you say anything, Thorin, I'm not leaving. So just... Oh!” She didn't expect to find him half naked trying to looked under his bandages.

She put the soup down and reached out to grab Thorin by the wrist. “Stop picking at it! You're going to make it worse.”

“It's fine.”

“It's not fine.”

“Yes, it is,” he growled and pulled his wrist back. His side itched enough to drive him crazy. “You're not my nurse.”

“I may as well be. Stop picking!”

He gave her a frustrated look, but dropped his hands into his lap.

“Good,” she said. “I helped Bombur make soup.” She sat down with a half smile directed at him. “I know it's not much, but I did promise you dinner. For now this will have to do. Once I can get real ingredients and a kitchen, well,” she waved her hand around. “At least it's hot.”

“You're still here,” he said in a tired voice.

“Did you expect me to ride away on a pony I don't have, into a dark forest full of spiders, without a guide, and with a concussion?”

He winced. “I meant... _here_. In my tent.”

She nodded and blew into the steam over the bowl. “Yes, well, I've decided to ignore you.”

“Bilba-”

“Eat!” she said, popping the spoon into his open mouth.

He swallowed and held out his hands for the bowl. He could feed himself. He took another spoonful and smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Now, I can either sit with you, or,” she sighed, “If you'd prefer I'll go somewhere else.”

“I... Stay. I'd enjoy some company.”

She ducked her head to try and hide her smile.

 

Sometime after eating, and after Bilba had gone, Thorin forced himself up from bed and out into the world. Gloin threatened to carry him back to his bed and strap him there. Thorin only hit him in the leg with his crutch. “I have yet to see either of my nephews,” he said by way of explanation.

Gloin was at least sympathetic. “Well if Kili is awake I'd be surprised,” he said. He crossed his arms and looked across the way to where he'd last seen the boys. “Fili's absolutely depressed though. I can't say I blame him,” he said and motioned a hand towards his head. “Won't even talk about it. Won't say how it happened. Nothing.”

Thorin nodded. He nearly opened his mouth to say what he'd seen. His flesh and blood held high in the air by Azog, his fist twisted in his hair. How Fili cut himself free.

“Better to lose your hair than endure death,” Thorin said.

Gloin nodded. “Aye. I still feel bad for him though.” He pointed to the tent Bilba had been kept in, and Fili and Kili had taken up residence in. “He's probably in there.”

Kili was snoring and sounded like a wild boar. Fili sat at a mirror with a sharp dagger in his lap as he contemplated how to best go about fixing what remained. Where he'd found the mirror was anyone's guess.

Thorin came in quietly and sat down silently next to Fili, unsure what to say, and Fili was unsure how to feel about everything. He went back to absently touching his hair.

“Fili?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

He sighed and contemplated the dagger in his lap. He held it out without looking at him. “I don't really know right now.”

Thorin nodded and for a while quietly looked over his nephew's head before deciding on how to cut it.

“You did well,” he said. “You're going to be a great king, Fili.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want to be king yet.”

Thorin nodded. “I don't blame you. I'm sorry I ever had to put this burden on you.” He brought the knife up and began to take away small pieces of hair. “I promise you and your brother I will find a way to gain your trust again. I'll do whatever it takes.”

He didn't say anything back. It was still too raw. He wasn't sure if he'd ever trust him again right now. In days the to come the hurt would be less, in days to come he would hug his uncle and remember he was the man who he still looked up to as a father, but today he didn't want to think of it.

“Our company and Bilba. I promise all of you.”

He swallowed as some hair fell past his eyes.

When Thorin finished he sat the knife down beside Fili. His hair curled below his ears, and among the salvaged hair was one braid that had not been taken from him.

“Azog did this to you, and you bravely fought him. Without you he would still be alive. Wear it like a badge of honor. Today this is not a mark of shame, it the mark of a hero.”

When Fili turned to look at him he was leaning over Kili's bed and feeling his head for a fever like he were a child still. He moved a stand of hair from his cheek and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Saved by an elf,” he said with a short laugh. “Who would have thought.”

 

Bilba found herself sitting alone out on a large rock. The tent city bustled, and there was a slow but contrast stream of people being moved into the mountain.

She was left to be by herself. Left to think and process everything and just breathe easy for a moment. She must of sat there an hour or more. The sun was setting in pinks and blues and golds. Eventually she heard the soft clack of a crutch and a few grunts come up from behind.

“You're still here,” Thorin said.

She nodded. “Yeah, I'm still here.”

He shuffled around and climbed up to sit beside her. “I'm glad you're here. I don't think I meant what I said before.”

“Hm.”

“I'm not the best at always saying what I want to say,” he admitted.

She nodded, and the edge of her lips quirked up. “I have noticed that.”

He smiled. “You will always have a place here with us. I only want to see you happy again.”

She bumped her shoulder into his lightly. “Let me tell you a little secret. I'm not fragile. I'm not broken. I was sad, and some part of me is sad still. Thorin, you're alive. Everyone is alive. I _am_ happy. Okay?” She put her hand on his. “I'm happy. What about you?”

“Relieved. Grateful. My company and kin live. You live. So, I am happy as well,” he said and he meant it.

“Good. So now we just take it one day at a time. We work on burying the dead, we see to treaties between Bard and Thranduil, and we start rebuilding.”

“We?”

She looked over at him. “I don't want to go.”

He nodded. “I don't really want you to go either.”

“So, what do you say then? Can we start over again?” There was so much hope behind her voice it made his chest flutter.

“I'd be a fool not to try for someone so willing to give me a second chance.”

“We all deserve second chances,” she said. She straightened her back and turned towards him. “Right. Well, nice to meet you. My name is Bilba Baggins.”

He laughed. “Seriously?”

She waited, smile still plastered to her face.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” he said with a small bow of his head and a roll of his eyes. “It is a pleasure, Miss Baggins.”

“And now that we are introduced,” she said clapping her hands together, “Now we become friends. What do you suggest we do to reacquaint ourselves?”

“I have no idea.”

She shrugged. “Well, once we're both not so grimy I think, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to try braiding your hair. And you can do mine.”

He nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

She beamed at him. “This is wonderful!”

“Bilba?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

She laughed. “Oh, very well then. But that doesn't mean we're courting again,” she said.

His kiss was soft, and his beard was rough. They lingered, foreheads pressed together, and Thorin's arms around her. Mahal, what had he done in his life to deserve her.

She started to laugh softly. “You smell like an orc.”

He cracked a smile. “I apologize. Though you don't smell much better, mizim.”

“Don't mizim me. How rude,” she said and kissed his forehead. “You are not starting this second try off very well, are you?”

“Forgive me. You smell of flowers in spring and all things hobbits consider good smells.”

“You're hopeless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and your lovely comments and all your kudos! You really don't know how much all of those mean.


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